#gray lines

You’ve taken a big, black, bold line and you’ve made it a little bit gray. And now every time you cross it again, it just gets grayer and grayer until one day you look around and you think, There was a line here once, I think.

Today is the day that I chose to officially write about the developments of my life. These moments are what truly make me into the person that I am. Sometimes these moments are too much, and sometimes they are just right. It’s hard for me to explain to most people, and unfortunately, it’s hard for me to explain to the people who are closest to me. 

There isn’t a day that goes by that I want to reach out to them and tell them what’s whirls through my brain on a day to day basis. Moments in my brain that just blur my reality, make me wonder what comes next, or if there will even be a next. 

My whole life I’ve written stories, there was also a time where I wrote in a diary at least once a week. These excerpts show me that this inner struggle goes back years, it makes me wonder how much longer I will be like this. I truly wonder to myself if anyone else ever feels like this, but I’m sure that there is. There are so many people on this wonderful world, it would be impossible for me to be singled out in this existence to be the only one suffering. However, it brings me not a single ounce of joy to learn that other people are standing on these gray lines. When and where do the colors start bursting into our lives? Are they driving and exciting, will I feel compelled to act as an individual in this world when they happen?

I expected to find answers with love, answers to my emptiness. But instead I have been left with more questions and an even worse despondency. Loss leaves me awake at night while my boyfriend sleeps soundly beside me. We are both feeling that our lives need more, want more. The things that we are seeking however, I’m not sure if they align or not. Hearing from coaches and people who have been in many relationships, expectations can shatter our realities. Knowing this, I try not to impose my previous expectations onto us or him for that matter. Still, it feels like I am a puzzle piece with no proper place.

I am more broke now that I was when I didn’t have a job and when I didn’t have bills. Graduation quickly approaches and applying for jobs has drained me more than the curriculum of my previous engineering major. Rejection emails file in and I don’t necessarily blame them, my resume doesn’t look any different from any of the other thousands of new graduates. My boyfriend has graduated, and he makes decent money, but to me he’s like Bill Gates. Before him, when I need a couple of hygiene products that maybe cost one or two tanks of gas, I had to consider which I can live without. Now he will buy them for me and a friendly reprimand comes with it for not expressing my need for them. These actions of his cause me to feel a thankfulness I only ever felt when my best friend let me essentially live with her for a semester because I couldn’t afford gas to commute to school. It also made me feel an uncontrollable amount of anguish. As an adult, I was still a burden to everyone around me, especially those who were close to me. I felt like I was exploiting their kindness, and my mother’s words about me being selfish burned into my mind daily. I had no way to express my thankfulness except for my words, and they felt empty, because I wanted to do so much more for them. 

SELFISH.

That word will forever haunt my day to day life. No matter how many snacks I can spare to homeless people around my university, no matter how many animals or people I volunteer with, no matter what major I choose to help the world, it’s all because in some way I benefit. 

SELFISH.

It hurts when I type it out, every letter feels like a brand. It hurts, and it hurts, and I can’t stand under this pressure to shake the feeling that I’m not actually selfish. Every day, every kiss or hug, ever favor or opportunity I take, I can’t shake it off. 

And maybe I won’t. There are times when my actions bring happiness to the people around me. A homeless man once said I was the most beautiful women he’s ever seen, and I don’t know if I buy that, but I appreciate his comment all the same. His words were so kind, and it was all over just a small Fuji red apple I had that I didn’t eat at lunch time. Homeless veterans couldn’t believe their ears when Bon Jovi was playing on my iPod as I folded and stamped letters. The sang and danced in their seats, and for a moment everything in this world felt pure. I used to volunteer for a man who took care of disowned parrots and other exotic birds. Birds have the intelligence of human toddlers, and they will remember your face. This man dedicated his livelihood and money for these animals, and I just happened to waltz into his sanctuary one weekend and asked for some weekly volunteer hours. His bond with these birds was the most innocent and pure thing I have ever experienced. They loved him, that much was obvious, but he would talk to them as if they were people. He knew which birds, who all looked the same to me, loved certain foods over others. He knew which ones liked head rubs or wing massages, it was honestly one of the most eye opening experiences of my life. I hope to one day repay him, I’ve never gone back there, I’m entirely too nervous for that type of interaction.