The Last Two Weeks.
The Last Two Weeks.
Over the last two weeks, I've completely shut down.
I've slept in until noon, disregarded my diet, and half-assed my writing.
I've ignored friends, family, pets, and hygiene.
Okay, maybe not hygiene, but the first three for sure.
I can name everyone I've talked to without using my toes, and list everything productive I've done on one hand.
Why the slackitude? Slackiness? Slacktransformers: Slack of the Moon?
I've been depressed.
I've been unhappy.
I've been unsatisfied with myself and the monster I have allowed my life to become.
I won't get into detail.
As much as I'd love to sit here and air out all of my dirty laundry, it's raining outside, and I just can't afford to catch a cold.
So instead of listing the what, I'd like to ramble about the why.
Before I do that, thank you for reading this.
I know this doesn't make a ton of sense, and isn't the least bit entertaining, but I like to ramble, and it helps if I can put it on paper... er... Screen.
Plus, a little additional traffic on the old HubPages profile never killed anyone.
One of the worst things about the way I think is that I desperately desire what I can't have.
And I mean desperately.
If I have a wallet full of crisp 20 dollar bills, I can drive through town without temptation.
"Eh, I've probably got something to eat at home" or "Meh, I'm not really hungry".
But if I've got four dollars and ninety-nine cents, and it costs five dollars to get Subway?
I will tear my car apart in pursuit of a penny.
As you can probably tell, this makes any kind of relationship with other people extremely difficult.
In my love life, it makes it very difficult to determine if I really want to be with a girl or if I'm just being seduced by the idea of the pursuit.
And with ex-girlfriends? It's almost impossible.
People, myself included, have a tendency to romanticize the past.
So when I'm single and surrounded by my sickeningly affectionate friends (If any of you are reading this, feel free to keep being cute, there's no genuine resentment from this guy), I start thinking back on relationships that I've had and it's hard not to remember the positives first.
The obvious thing to think here is... Well... If it didn't work then, it won't work now, so why bother making the same mistake again?
And I have an answer for that.
I'm an impulsive hopeless romantic.
Now it's easy to see that and think that being a hopeless romantic is a good thing.
Most people think of a hopeless romantic and somebody like Ted Moseby comes to mind.
If you're unfamiliar, Ted Moseby is the main character of the sitcom, "How I Met Your Mother".
In the show, Ted is always falling in love with girls too quickly and coming up with crazy, over the top, hilarious romantic gestures.
"Aww, I'd love to date a guy like that!", says the sympathetic inner voice of girls everywhere.
And why not? A sweet guy who is just dying to make a girl happy? Jackpot!
Here's why not.
They're not called "Super Romantics" or "Awesome Romantics".
They, and by they, I mean we, are "Hopeless Romantics".
Because we are in love with the idea of being in love.
Cuddling up and watching Netflix on stormy days, long beach walks on summer nights, dressing up nice to go out for dinner.
That all sounds great.
But relationships aren't just about being cute and romantic.
Relationships are about trust and understanding and growing together.
It takes two to tango, you need two separate people to form a relationship.
If I start dating you and I just adopt all of your interests and mannerisms, it isn't much of a relationship anymore as much as an undetermined period of time where we start resenting each other because I don't push you and you don't give me the sense of security that I so desperately need.
I'm not saying it's wrong to learn to love something for someone you care about, far from it, that's an area where I've always struggled.
But at the end of the day, the health of a relationship isn't judged by how cute you guys are or how often you go on flashy dates.
At the end of the day, a healthy relationship is two separate people with their own personalities and interests who trust and understand each other.
It's not flashy, it's not sexy, but it's the most beautiful thing there is.
Hopeless romantics don't understand that.
I love the idea of falling in love with a girl and spoiling her. I love the idea of having my other half by my side all the time, being snarky and adorable.
But lately, I've put more stock into that than something more important.
As much as I'd love to fall in love with someone, I need to get better at loving myself.
I need to be okay with who I am, who I'm not, and what I'm going to do with my life.
And in the past, I haven't done that.
In the past, I've based too much of how I feel about myself into whatever relationship I was in.
And ultimately, that prophecy would fulfill itself.
The love you give yourself is unique in the sense that you have to decide to give it to yourself.
Regardless of how amazing girls were, and regardless of how much I did truly care for them, they could never fill the void that I need filled.
So, whenever I started to get feelings that I didn't quite understand or that weren't what I was expecting, I would cut and run.
And rarely in a polite or even respectful way.
In choosing to cut and run to protect myself in the short term, my closet gathered quite an impressive collection of skeletons.
And by skeletons I mean unresolved romantic feels and broken friendships.
Even when I would get my head together and try to mend those friendships or explore those feelings, my nasty old habits would rear their ugly heads and I'd just re-break the bone while it was healing.
So, when I sit there, desperately longing for what I can't have, remembering only the best parts of a failed adventure, it's a toxic feeling.
To actively pursue something like that is exhausting.
It's almost as you are literally reaching back in time to drag that person into the present with you.
Hint- It's not possible.
Even if you do make that dream come true, it's exactly what it once was. There's a reason you weren't better at what you did when you did it, and committing time and energy into something or someone is a waste if it's destined to end in heartbreak.
Right now, I'm lost.
I'm not sure I love myself, and I don't think I even like myself.
I'm stuck in a repetitive rut where I enable myself to be less than what I can be because of what I'll "do tomorrow".
I pretend to be even less than I am so that nobody believes I should be what I can be.
Partly because I don't want the pressure but mostly because I don't believe I can do it.
I don't believe I can be everything I've been told I can be.
I feel so rooted.
I'm buried up to my knees in concrete and everyone is asking me to fly.
It tears me apart.
I can't be what everyone asks me to be, and I can't stand the look in their eyes when I have to come up with another excuse about why I am who I am.
So I don't sleep.
I turn to the dark cover of night and I hide with my thoughts.
Oddly, this is when I'm most productive.
Late at night when nothing else moves, and I can finally breathe, the words come so easily.
I can safely say that I've written 80% of my work on here after 1 AM.
And I don't think it's bad.
I actually think it's pretty good.
I think that's what makes it harder.
Because I believe deep down that I can be more than I am.
While I hate the pressure that I get from friends and family, the most stressful pressure is the pressure that I put on myself.
I know better.
I know that I can be better.
It's true that I'm not completely responsible.
I've definitely made the most of the opportunities that I've gotten, and I feel no shame for coming as far as I have in the time that I've been doing it.
I guess everyone else just expects me to be farther along by this point and it's frustrating when I can't seem to get the shots I think I deserve.
I don't make the best of all my free time, but I never let an opportunity pass me by without giving it the mathematically impossible 110%.
I am held down by the pressures of my peers, but the pressure that I put on myself is what motivates me to write my best stuff.
I know I'm only 23.
i know I could be writing novels or working on bigger projects in my spare time.
But what I do actually put my heart into, I think I do extremely well, and I wish that everyone else understood just how frustrating it is for me to constantly jump over these roadblocks.
Over the last two weeks, I've been overwhelmed.
Family problems, fights with friends, fighting with friends about fights with friends, fighting with family about not wanting to talk about fighting with friends about fights with friends, car troubles, physical health, the wandering wonders of my beating heart, the continued failure of my Oakland Raiders, the sinking skepticism of my New York Knicks, one annoying pimple, drinking sour milk, shaky internet, the price of whey protein, the emotional cost of being an introvert surrounded by extroverts, the availability of clean socks, the crushing weight of expectations, the mocking cruelty of writers block, my hatred for Vince McMahon, the safety of Trick or Treaters, the changing of the seasons, and the activity of a certain young woman are all things I take in stride.
But the little voice in the back of my head telling me that I can't do it is what kills me.
Over the last two weeks, depending who you are, I've either been a terrible or an amazing friend.
I can say that with confidence.
Over the last two weeks, depending what I was working on, I've either neglected my writing, or hit it out of the park.
And over the last two weeks I've done something terrible.
I've let the doubts creep in and take the wheel.
But I'm not gonna do that anymore.
I'm gonna love myself.
I'm gonna love my work.
I'm gonna love my friends.
And I'm gonna make sure that these are the last two weeks I let this happen.
The Last Two Weeks.