I drank my tea, finishing it while on the phone. I was in public, tear marked voice, the salty fluids welling in my eyes- everything blurry, especially my mind.
“I miss her,” I softly spoke. “I don’t know why I feel the need to see her. I feel I have gone crazy.”
“What do you want?” The voice through the phone asked me. “Do you want to visit someone who fucked up and let you go, or do you want to continue doing what you’ve always wanted to do?”
A question I had been asking myself, but currently have no answer for. Maybe I am crazy for wanting to have time off to visit someone who, in all honesty, would probably resent me for doing so. Or maybe I’d be crazy to not try, knowing that I’d regret not visiting someone who made such a difference, such an impact, on my life. Do I die never having seen the face, been in the presence of, someone who means so much? It’s like God, except I know this person exists.
The thing is, humans are an interesting species. I’m thrilled to be one, though sometimes I wish I were a tree, or a blissful dog, or an indifferent cat; something easier to manage the life of. Spreading my wooden arms to catch the warm rays of sunlight through my finger tips, or chasing the grey object my human has thrown for me- “OH MY GOD THIS IS THE BEST!” Or simply “feed me, scum” as I poop in a box of sand, covering my feces afterward because I’m not a heathen.
Still, as I write this, I am curious to why my humanity feels so important. Am I supposed to become the failure of the ‘perfect’ love story, inspiring heartbreaking movies and books? Am I supposed to be the success story of a starving musician, putting myself behind music and lyrics to help someone alive after I’m dead to know they aren’t alone in their feelings? Or am I just here on Earth, existing, going through life dealing with my personal struggles, relishing in my personal triumphs, and drinking overpriced tea at Starbucks in a college town outside of San Francisco?
You see, I’ve always known myself to be complicated. To be a bit more “human” than I realize. I think too much, often times getting lost in whatever daydream I am dreaming of. Lately the intrusive thought I have lately is “am I making the right decision?” I am learning to just go, to take my steps and make my decisions without over thinking them. I called a friend to talk about my thoughts about a former love, about my current band, and about how I feel like I am going crazy at times. She was calm, assuring me that I am where I need to be. It comforted me. Today I hope to speak with my mom about the thoughts stated earlier in this post, as well as my brother. And to talk with my mom about the dreams I’ve been having lately, the ones where she helps me arrive to my destination, the same ones where I see my former friend in the last minute- the last minute being bliss. I have dreams that often come true later in life….. I’m not sure about these ones, though. They may just be my inner desire, my subconscious, showing itself in my dreams. The same dreams I wake up from miserable because I know they are just dreams, and I worry they will never come true.
So why don’t I chase them? Why am I here, at Starbucks, writing? I could ask my band for time off. Or utilize our time off in June… but then I would be moneyless, and probably more broken hearted than I am now. But at least I would have peace of mind knowing I made the conscious (or subconscious) decision to actually meet someone whom made my life better simply because they are who they are.
Now, I know love probably won’t blossom. That is not my intention… I just want to meet them. To put to rest the constant thought that I would regret not seeing them, even though visiting them would probably cause them immense anxiety. I don’t want to put that burden on anybody. Maybe I am crazy… or maybe I’d be crazy to not put forth the effort.
I still have the small bit of hope, but like I stated in a poem in the past: I have to suppress it.
Do I have to be normal?