Here's the Thing (Part 7)
I have lost what little handle I had left on the situation. And by that I mean I am no longer sure what it really is.
I keep coming back to the fact that I've met you all of six times. But I don't necessarily believe that six meetings is too short to feel something real. Whether that's the case here, though, I don't have the slightest clue. Because I can't tell if I'm acting like a child because I've stumbled upon something real, or if I'm feeling increasingly pressured to convince myself that it's something real just to justify to myself my childishness. I should be clear when I say "something real" that I do not in any way think it's anything real from your side, or anything practical or worth exploring from an objective worldly perspective. I simply mean that what I happen to be feeling, within the rattling cage of a largely empty skull and the cavernous hollows of a largely dead heart, is actually genuine, and its weight and depth are comprised of real feelings and affection and perhaps some mistaken connection I felt, as opposed to being a crush blown all manners out of proportion.
I am so confused by the way I am feeling. I think I was more fidgety about the whole thing a little while ago, but I knew that'd settle if I just gave it time. I mean in the last two-to-seven years I've positively mastered the unbelievably painful skill of not reaching out to someone you really really want to talk to. And that did settle. I just also assumed that wanting you to message and/or just wanting to talk to you would settle with it, too. But it/they didn't. And that is unsettling.
After the first few days of not being in touch, I was getting around to not expecting you to message. But the last few days again, I don't know. I feel like a child kicking and screaming for attention on Twitter. I know that isn't entirely true and I only say what I actually think, but I can't seem to shed this element of maybe-he'll-respond-to-this-one, of will-he-think-this-makes-me-interesting. Then the article I emailed you with the funny wine comment since wine is one of your favourite drinks got no response. Plus the introduction email. Just seemed like a perfectly nice time to say Hi, how's it going. Worse than all that, a couple of times my phone has vibrated, my mind has suddenly flashed a very vivid mental picture of a whatsapp alert with your name -- very very clearly, your name, the entire spelling. And then two things happen concurrently -- my heart skips a beat and I try to prevent my heart from skipping a beat. The result is just a very uncomfortable moment in my chest. Of course, it's never you, so the skippy-heart thing passes, but is quickly replaced by dread at my inanity.
Then there was the dream three days/nights ago. I think I must have come to India (although the location isn't very clear) and was probably just meeting up with you. I think we were in a car and you were driving. What I remember clearly is that, like before I suppose, I couldn't wait to kiss you. So I asked you to stop time (this isn't some super pathetic romantic symbolism, it's just a relic of this show Heroes I'd been watching where all these people have all these superpowers and one of the people's superpower is that he can stop time for everyone except himself and anyone he's touching). So I think I had my hand on your arm, and I squeezed and asked you to stop time, and you did, and I kissed you. Within a couple of seconds (and I think we suddenly weren't in a car anymore) I was pulling your shirt off, which clearly I was unable to get to in New York and is also clearly the first thing I'd like to do -- or maybe second, after kissing you. My dreams are always pretty directly linked to reality, so the specificity of it all doesn't surprise me, but I think it was refreshing to have a dream I wouldn't mind seeing come true. Then again, the next day I had a rather inappropriate dream about an old friend I haven't seen in years. Maybe both the dreams just came from wantonness, but I think that the second dream was a forced attempt of my mind to distract from the impossibility of the first, and to try to blend them into the same mindscape.
After this, I feel it necessary to reiterate, from some of my previous posts, that I'm really not asking for anything, and if I had to, I'd ask for friendship. The "first" and "second" things I'd "want" per my dream are just, I don't know, fantasies, I suppose. What I'd really want is to just stay in touch and maybe be friends, and if not that, then what I'd really want is to just know if I did something wrong and pushed you away from just staying in touch and maybe being friends. There were three "just"s in that sentence.
Maybe I'm just being impatient and haven't given it enough time. It has, after all, only been a little over a week. So maybe the you of it all needs more time to fade.
For now I'm confounded by this. I keep feeling the need to caveat all of this by saying that I really do know that we've only met six times. But then, seriously, there's your face and your smile and your intelligence and your voice saying what I'm sure were only momentarily felt nice things about me and your, what I'm also sure was very momentary, "Is it wrong that I miss you already," all clear as day just waiting to be called forth from their memory box. And I don't know.
So, I suppose, here's the thing: I just don't know.
I keep coming back to the fact that I've met you all of six times. But I don't necessarily believe that six meetings is too short to feel something real. Whether that's the case here, though, I don't have the slightest clue. Because I can't tell if I'm acting like a child because I've stumbled upon something real, or if I'm feeling increasingly pressured to convince myself that it's something real just to justify to myself my childishness. I should be clear when I say "something real" that I do not in any way think it's anything real from your side, or anything practical or worth exploring from an objective worldly perspective. I simply mean that what I happen to be feeling, within the rattling cage of a largely empty skull and the cavernous hollows of a largely dead heart, is actually genuine, and its weight and depth are comprised of real feelings and affection and perhaps some mistaken connection I felt, as opposed to being a crush blown all manners out of proportion.
I am so confused by the way I am feeling. I think I was more fidgety about the whole thing a little while ago, but I knew that'd settle if I just gave it time. I mean in the last two-to-seven years I've positively mastered the unbelievably painful skill of not reaching out to someone you really really want to talk to. And that did settle. I just also assumed that wanting you to message and/or just wanting to talk to you would settle with it, too. But it/they didn't. And that is unsettling.
After the first few days of not being in touch, I was getting around to not expecting you to message. But the last few days again, I don't know. I feel like a child kicking and screaming for attention on Twitter. I know that isn't entirely true and I only say what I actually think, but I can't seem to shed this element of maybe-he'll-respond-to-this-one, of will-he-think-this-makes-me-interesting. Then the article I emailed you with the funny wine comment since wine is one of your favourite drinks got no response. Plus the introduction email. Just seemed like a perfectly nice time to say Hi, how's it going. Worse than all that, a couple of times my phone has vibrated, my mind has suddenly flashed a very vivid mental picture of a whatsapp alert with your name -- very very clearly, your name, the entire spelling. And then two things happen concurrently -- my heart skips a beat and I try to prevent my heart from skipping a beat. The result is just a very uncomfortable moment in my chest. Of course, it's never you, so the skippy-heart thing passes, but is quickly replaced by dread at my inanity.
Then there was the dream three days/nights ago. I think I must have come to India (although the location isn't very clear) and was probably just meeting up with you. I think we were in a car and you were driving. What I remember clearly is that, like before I suppose, I couldn't wait to kiss you. So I asked you to stop time (this isn't some super pathetic romantic symbolism, it's just a relic of this show Heroes I'd been watching where all these people have all these superpowers and one of the people's superpower is that he can stop time for everyone except himself and anyone he's touching). So I think I had my hand on your arm, and I squeezed and asked you to stop time, and you did, and I kissed you. Within a couple of seconds (and I think we suddenly weren't in a car anymore) I was pulling your shirt off, which clearly I was unable to get to in New York and is also clearly the first thing I'd like to do -- or maybe second, after kissing you. My dreams are always pretty directly linked to reality, so the specificity of it all doesn't surprise me, but I think it was refreshing to have a dream I wouldn't mind seeing come true. Then again, the next day I had a rather inappropriate dream about an old friend I haven't seen in years. Maybe both the dreams just came from wantonness, but I think that the second dream was a forced attempt of my mind to distract from the impossibility of the first, and to try to blend them into the same mindscape.
After this, I feel it necessary to reiterate, from some of my previous posts, that I'm really not asking for anything, and if I had to, I'd ask for friendship. The "first" and "second" things I'd "want" per my dream are just, I don't know, fantasies, I suppose. What I'd really want is to just stay in touch and maybe be friends, and if not that, then what I'd really want is to just know if I did something wrong and pushed you away from just staying in touch and maybe being friends. There were three "just"s in that sentence.
Maybe I'm just being impatient and haven't given it enough time. It has, after all, only been a little over a week. So maybe the you of it all needs more time to fade.
For now I'm confounded by this. I keep feeling the need to caveat all of this by saying that I really do know that we've only met six times. But then, seriously, there's your face and your smile and your intelligence and your voice saying what I'm sure were only momentarily felt nice things about me and your, what I'm also sure was very momentary, "Is it wrong that I miss you already," all clear as day just waiting to be called forth from their memory box. And I don't know.
So, I suppose, here's the thing: I just don't know.
posted by Kriti at 5:11 PM
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