I’m just giving in.
Some people would say I feel too much. I say, “Too much? What is that?” No, but seriously. I am The Person Who Feels Everything, surely one of the most Sisyphean of all fates. It’s pushing an emotional boulder up the mountain of your past relationships, only to have it roll down on you. It’s being the person who feels enough for three relationships, who could hold a feelings summit, who could hand out feelings on the street like a flier for discounted sub sandwiches and still have some emotions left at the end of the day.
via Thought Catalog – “You’re Always Allowed to Have Feelings”
There are some days when I wish I didn’t have so many feelings. When I wish the emotional capabilities and the ebbs and the flows in how I see the world and my life and my current state would just disappear for a second.
I’m not the only person like this. I just happen to be one that has an outlet, that has this blog to type into, but who craves finding that one partner who can actually just be so comforting and awesome and completely unexpected that I don’t even feel the slightest bit strange telling him these same things. And because I have this penchant for analysis and processing and intensity and a tendency to fall for no one but tortured souls, I still have this blog and not the other thing I mentioned.
(I have to admit that I’ve been listening non-stop to Wrecking Ball because it’s pretty much the description of every “almost lover” I’ve had since 2010.)
When you have too many feelings, you feel those connections, you see everything that could be, you see how to help, and you pain yourself wanting to make things better even if it’s not your job. And even when you know this, even when you tell yourself to run far away from complicated potential, you still find yourself lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering when the pattern will stop. Because it always returns.
How impossible is it that someone will realize he needs to break his own patterns and destructive habits, and face his own demons, and realize I’m actually the best thing to happen to him, and that treating me like just an option isn’t actually an option?
It’s pretty far out there, and I want to divorce myself from the idea that it’s even a possibility, because so far, it hasn’t happened. Manic pixie dream girl syndrome, I suppose.
And what I’m feeling now, as autumn takes its hold, is just tired. But as usual, I never give up. Finally identifying the pattern that’s plagued me for several years is a step forward. Now, what to do about it?
Well. That’s a whole new journey.
Thanks for listening, blogosphere. I can’t hold onto those kinds of thoughts indefinitely. Someone needed to know.
All I wanted was to break your walls.