I feel like this should be the start of something, now, in this specific moment, because Iām feeling like it is truly the end of some very wonderful things.Ā
For starters, my best friend is moving on. I never really knew what it would feel like when she did, because I guess I never really realized how much I depended on her; we talked, we fantasized, I ranted, she listened, and it worked. It was a friendship that worked so unbelievably well, I hadnāt even recognized how fucking natural it was. On the contrary, I definitely took for granted how much I needed her, and how much Iād miss her. I mean, Iām thrilled that she is finding her groove in college-life and engaging in all the wild shenanigans she missed out on in high school ā I just wish I couldāve been there to watch her enjoy it.Ā
Another thing driving me crazy is how much I miss another one. Or rather, how much of her I feel Iām missing out on⦠itās like, sheās gained this brand new sense of self, and sheās finally letting herself be the girl I always knew was in there, and I donāt get to see it! I am so proud of how sheās growing up, and the fact that sheās letting herself live and enjoy small moments even when she knows they wonāt last. She used to overthink everything, always looking too far ahead, always dwelling too long on the potential consequences of what she was about to say, and now ā I think itās safe to say she doesnāt give a fuck. She knows she looks amazing, she knows sheās hella fun, and sheās owning it.Ā
Yet, however proud I am of my beautiful best friends, Iām almost feeling jealous of how quickly theyāre moving, and I think thatās because I feel stuck. Iāve never stayed still this long in my entire life; Iām not used to being stationary, sleeping in, having to think up ways to spend my day rather than having my day spend itself before Iād even gotten a chance to breathe. Itās hard for me, seeing them laughing and smiling, and knowing itās their turn to feel that way but also wanting desperately to feel it with them.Ā
Which brings me to him. In my best words, he makes being stationary feel okay. His existence isnāt earth-shattering like that one from Boston, nor is it completely without a future like⦠all the others. He makes me smile, which is good ā thatās like, a baseline for what someone should do for you. He also makes me think, and makes me laugh, and makes me push my own boundaries.Ā
Like, sitting on his roof ā or back up to climbing up on to his roof, thatās an even better visual: Iām not a physical-risk-taker. I donāt scale the rocks if thereās a likelihood Iāll fall, and I donāt jump into the water because thereās a chance it could hurt. But I didnāt think twice about following him up that ladder, and I didnāt think twice when he lit a cigarette and asked me about my life. I just, did it.Ā
So, yeah, he pushes me. Which is a change of pace, because he doesnāt push me in small-town ways. Heās not, ācāmon, just sneak out, your parents will never knowā āĀ heās, āletās go off-roading and smoke a cigarette on top of that mountain.ā Which, Iāll admit, is refreshing. But he doesnāt make me reconsider leaving, not in the slightest, and for that Iām grateful.Ā
I cannot imagine how devastating it wouldāve been to have fallen in love here.Ā
Truthfully, Iām stoked to be moving; I donāt think I could get out of here fast enough, because while it is refreshing and comforting to be resting up in such a beautiful place, any longer would drive me insane.Ā
I crave stress: the emotion and dedication of studying, learning, producing things. I miss the deadlines and the red pens, and although I know uni is going to be a very rude awakening and I am definitely going to flounder, I still cannot wait to begin. Itās too easy, being here, drinking coffee on the beach while the dogs chase those damn migratory rat-birds. I want to be overwhelmed, pushing myself to do things Iām uncomfortable doing, making new friends and trying out new identities and different ways of carrying myself. I want to say something wrong to a professor and have them make some comment about āthose damn Americans,ā and I want to learn from that.Ā
Thatās my problem with being here, is that Iām not learning. Which is why this has to be the something new that starts. I have to put words to paper again, or Iāll explode, I could feel It happening. I was imploding, every beautiful sunset and brilliant smile from him, all I wanted to do was write about it, and I felt like I couldnāt. It was driving me mad, but now it doesnāt have to.Ā
He texted me tonight, explaining why he hasnāt been responding well ā but I knew he didnāt like texting, thatās why I never expected much, so Iām okay with that. I just, sort of canāt wait to be in a place where Iām expected to meet people, where I donāt have to make excuses to get coffee with someone, and where I can explore what I really want without anything holding me back.Ā Ā
Now that I know where Iām going, for sure, I feel giddy. I thought I already knew, and knew what it felt like to be excited about it, but it seems now that I was holding my breath. Itās like, when that email came through saying Iād met my conditions, that was the moment all of my hard work paid off, not back when I got the scores. I knew the scores were good, because I knew Iād worked hard. Getting that confirmation, though ā that validation that I was qualified to be where Iād always seen myself going ā that was when it hit me. All of those hours studying and worrying, every single cup of coffee consumed in a vain attempt to seem as if I was prepared for whatever I was engaging in that day. Sometimes, I wish I knew how much of it was completely unnecessary ā how much of it was just fluff, just bullshit verbiage on a resume that didnāt actually impact the hiring decision. But then I think, no. None of it was bullshit, because all of it taught me something and none of it taught me nothing. Everything I did had a purpose, an end game ā even if that end game was just, disciplining myself to do boring, trivial things for the sake of doing them.Ā
Like, Pony Club. I could have just as easily ridden horses on my own, gone to competitions, learned my life lessons and not dealt with all the stress and trauma of ratings. After all, ponies were my hobby, not my career move. Nevertheless, I did the ratings, and I earned my certifications, and I donāt regret a second of it because every time I tied that goddamn stock-tie and shined those boots, every time I said the wrong thing to the wrong instructor and found myself on the end of a āyou canāt simplify it like thatā lecture that ends with me cantering 15 meter circles with my pinkies tied to my saddle, no stirrups, shouting Katy Perryās āFireworkā to the tune of the national anthem to prove you can, in fact, multitask ā every time I picked myself up out of the dirt and swung my leg back over, I was solidifying a huge piece of my make-up. When I wiped my tears and simply tried again, and again, and again, and again, and again I was creating a person who refused to give in no matter the pressure.Ā
And thatās who I am. I donāt give in. Even though this time in my life is full of crazy and chaos and uncertainty, I wonāt fall back on my old tricks just to avoid a bit of a fight, because all of the shit I did to get here taught me how to throw the first punch.Ā