dark for dark business.

It’s the solstice and the darkest day of the year, and that is mildly fitting for a day which is a couple of things, among them the anniversary of my grandfather’s death, the day before my father’s cancer surgery, and the day on which I learn that the guy I’ve been distantly crushing on since summer has been in a relationship for two weeks. My mood is dark.

Perhaps I have an overdeveloped sense of what would be fitting, but the only friend I could conceivably call is not answering.

There is little to do at this point. A lot of me wants to yell and scream and rant and rave (to quote Looney Tunes). The rest of me is aware that that is not the ideal course of action. Perhaps I am a self-repressor but you do not say those things. You do not accuse a person of lying to you and manipulating your feelings when they are in another relationship. It is not their fault that you were blind and crazy.

I should probably shut up and remind myself of the truth – that it is not my time to be in a relationship right now. I am leaving the country at the end of the coming summer, and within a year of that I will be coming back. It is not advisable for me to try to start a new romantic connection which is intended to be permanent in either place. It will not end well for anyone involved.

Moral of the story: don’t fall in love with anyone you can’t get your hands on. If it’s possible to take that in a way which is literal but manages not to be sexual, please do.

God I wish I’d done a thing or two differently. I really was quite stupid this time.

One thing I have managed to already succeed at is remind myself that I do not need to decide now how I will feel about this next summer in the event that I encounter this person again. So that is hopeful, at the very least.

I am strongly in the mood to sit on my roof, a la Wallace in What If.

I am kind of disgruntled about that damned letter. That was a big leap for me. To quote the (excellent) guest pastor from this morning, I made myself vulnerable in the writing of it. I dislike the fact that that letter is now in the hands of a person who did not appreciate that vulnerability. I don’t mean to make it sound like it is his fault I am hurt or that if he’d just been more appreciative everything would have been fine. I am simply unhappy with the fact.

It is not in my best interest to assume that other people understand things I don’t tell them. Ha. I feel like I should have learned this a long time ago.

One of the biggest things that bothers me about this (and it really shouldn’t, but setbacks are setbacks and such is the way of the world) is that now the list of people I wouldn’t kiss again is as long as the list of people I’ve kissed. Guilt resurfaces. I thought I had actually made some progress with guilt in the wake of this particular encounter. Evidently the roots run deeper. (Excuse my mixed metaphors.) I don’t like the idea of kissing anyone again for a while. Perhaps not for a very long while.

At the very least, this is certainly one for the archives, as I have said before, and I believe the novel I have been trying to write will benefit.

I am, however, dissatisfied with my perceived role in this drama. I have the distinct feeling that I am the weird Idaho girl who writes letters and doesn’t have sex. God damn it, that is not who I am. At least, it’s not who I want to be. So the problem is with me? See, I just don’t freaking know!

Then again, my perception of the other person is also probably pronouncedly off-target at the moment.

The thought did cross my mind (inspired by something I saw on the Internet) that perhaps it isn’t bad to be denied a romantic relationship, that perhaps that really isn’t what I should be worried about right now, that perhaps a friendship is all that will come out of this and that will be enough. On the one hand that feels like a cliche and a cop-out, on the other it feels like a relief. The thorn in my side with this one is that I bloody kissed him and he kissed me back god damn it.

Why does it suck so hard to be human. Maybe I will just become a hermit. Not sure how many times I’ve said that, but oh well.

Note: I am going back next summer no matter what.

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