three a.m. osho. pentatonix. you know.


Last night was a white night and I was awake after three. Which, on the morning of the Saturday before finals week, the day before a Sunday on which I’m playing at the church, was awful.

I mean, first of all, finals are a giant ball of stress. I have five and I’m wildly stressed about three. I’m ish-stressed about one because my grade is riding on it but I’m fairly certain I can pass it, and I’m not stressed about the fifth. Wee.

Piano playing is a giant ball of stress because the church has changed the hymn lineup no less than three times and also selected the most difficult version of “Go Tell It On The Mountain” I have ever encountered. GAH.

Last night I went to The Giver with some friends (good movie visually, but not plotwise, sorry. I need to read the book again), and then I went home, made myself pasta, ate chocolates, ate the pasta and watched What If on some sketchy website on the internet. (For the record, What If is the movie about Daniel Radcliffe trying to be friends with Zoe Kazan and it is possibly my second very favorite movie in all the world.) And then I tried to write for a little bit, failed, put my laptop away and went to sleep. Except, you know, not.

Instead, I lay awake for a long time, got on Twitter, got off Twitter, got on Twitter again, etc., and could not stop thinking about my non-relationship.

GUUuuhhhuhuhh. (Not sure I’ve ever made that sound before, but never mind that.)

It’s a thing…I think. I think it’s a thing. (Funny how those two sentences mean different things.) We don’t really talk on a daily basis, but I did send a letter…and he indicated that he might send one back. And yet, probably because I was awake at 3 in the morning, I suddenly cannot handle the bit where I do not know how he feels and I have not told him what I feel.

And then I had the stupid idea that if I were in the habit of getting drunk I’d have an excuse to tell the truth.


And then three AM normal Red was like, “Just wait until you get a letter back, or until you’ve gotten some sleep, or until you understand a thing or two more. You barely know this guy, for all you’ve spent four consecutive hours kissing him. Calm down.”

And three AM crazy eyes Red was all, “NO NO NO DON’T BE A COWARD TELL THE TRUTH RIGHT *** **** ******* NOW!!!”

And three AM normal Red was like, “WRITE IT DOWN YOU CRAZY *****.”

So three AM Red grabbed her legal pad which is still crinkly because she used it at the pool this summer and scribbled some stuff which I am not going to reproduce for you here because I may actually use it for the person for whom it was intended someday. Ha.

Anyway, then I went to bed and managed to fall asleep and dreamed all night about oceans, and I have spent all the time since I woke up on YouTube and/or studying for my Japanese final, and mostly mentally freaking out about being the person who is always desperate for love.

And then I found a set of words, attributed to Osho.

“The capacity to be alone is the capacity to love. It may look paradoxical to you, but it is not. It is an existential truth: only those people who are capable of being alone are capable of love, of sharing, of going into the deepest core of the other person, without possessing the other, without becoming dependent on the other, without reducing the other to a thing, and without becoming addicted to the other.”

This, coupled with the line from What If which says, “It makes you never want to give up anything good ever again,” makes me feel weird, and like I’m failing by doing nothing and would be failing if I tried to do something.

I should really probably just shut up about everything until finals are over.


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