In Regards to November...

So im very confused lately on what, exactly, such intense emotions as love and heartbreak are. I've always felt very strongly that love is a once in a lifetime, Breathe for you Die for you Am for you and your happiness not emotion or state of mind, but self. You, yourself, alter to make that person happy. Not to change in the way that you wrong who or what you are, but in the way that you, for the first time put your own wants and needs to the second priority. Hand over your oxygen mask as the plane crashes down, change the radio off of Fergie to Distrubed, eat coffee ice cream to see if it makes your tounge taste like their favorite drink and something so true and permanent should only happen once in a lifetime, which is why I don't believe in love at my younge age. Yes, i am 18. Yes, I am becoming an adult, and my friends are even more "grown up" than I am, being that their older, but still-- we're young. We're kids. We're learning how exactly to be adults, and pay rent, and have careers. We're new to this world, still learning, still wide-eyed and tight-pocketed.

To follow this idea, heartbreak should only happen once as well. True, cutting heartbreak. When you're 80 and your spouse- youre one true love and soulmate- has passed away. Now, of course, this is flawed as there can be more than one heartbreak to a persons life, if there weren't it'd be easier to get through. Like chicken pox aren't SO bad because theres the knowledge that after this, it's over. You'll never have to go through it again, the one-time pain is over. Of course, life doesn't follow this logic. Parents, and children die. Medical messages without cures, as luck would have it, are delivered and expected to be lived with. Bankruptcy becomes a forced decision on a single parent of three, and suddenly food and shelter are no longer taken for granted. Of course, all these things will merit a heartbreak. However in this sense, there is only one. And when this happens it's only appropriate that you should cry, lie in bed, fuck work fuck school fuck the world... and grieve. Wait for the pain to hopefully attatch itself to the time you're losing, in addition to sanity and serenity, like autumn leaves down the river, and pass.

So why is it now that I find myself on the verge of believing I had been in love, at the young, ignorant, wide-eyed age of 18? Not even sure of the exact path for my career to be, much less begin it, and still I consider myself at the same emotional level of fully "adult-ed" adults? It wasn't long enough. We didn't see eachother enough. Nothing was enough to merit such a strong term as Love. And now that He's gone- hundreds of miles away- and its all over and done, I'm not crying or grieving or hiding away. I am going to work, and laughing with my friends and singing in my car driving home. Yet why does the only person who really gets me, who I turn to to ask why I do such crazy things because even I don't know, why does he believe I am heartbroken? Because I'm awake at 4am after exhausting myself at work all night, because I was awake at 7am last night after exhausting myself even further at work pervious to that, because since the day he left I have not yet found sleep before the sun came up. I'm too detatched to cry, too stubborn and strong-willed to admit how much I cared for him, yet too weak to look at his picture for more than 30 seconds without tears welling. So I show him to everyone else, assuming that through his picture they, too, will be able to see his soul the way I always could. Im proud of what I had, and that I understood him the way I did. I didn't know him- I'd have needed more time for that.. but I understood him. His weird tendancies, and personal ticks. I may not have known the story that caused them, but I understood.

So why do I think my good friend may be right? Because its 4am, and all I can do is let my mind reel on and on about what I had, who I had, and everything I, for the first time, would've let it be. Maybe I didn't love him.. I didn't. But for the first time I let myself open up to the possibility of it, and after 18 years of being shut hurricane-protection tight, the infection I got while open feels an awful lot like hearbtreak.

It's been a long month.