Saturday, April 27, 2002

There's no sun in Saturday

Ach, I have all of this free time, and I have no idea how I should spend it. Look up stuff online? Do my homework (on a saturday!!??)? Sleep till' dinner? Go for a walk? Water some plants? I'm lost. Can I come home with you?

Watched "Say Anything" for the first time last night. What a fabulous movie. It's funny, it's honest, it's REAL. Wow, and so quoteable too. I recommend it highly. THANKS ALICE!!!

I hate crying. Ok, I don't neccessarily hate crying; I better not, as I do it so damn often for any reason whatsoever. I seep like a boiled teabag, man. But I just finished crying again. Another weakness raises it's ugly head.

I remember sitting with my mom at a pizzaria in the mall. It was the break right after all the worst stuff happened--Spring Break I think--I was damn miserable. I mean, pathetically miserable. Everything reminded me of Dave. I cried several times every day. I kept obsessing about everything. How all of this could be over that. My world was rocked, you know? I'd had relationships where I really didn't LOVE the person I was dating, and it seemed like everyone loved me. That all I had to do was really love someone in return, and I would be set. That would be it. Instant eternal true love. I thought it existed, but life had more lessons to teach me. But I digress. . .

I was sitting with Mom talking about relationships and discussing whether or not I was intimidating, and we started talking about Dad. Now, I'm pretty much an even hybrid of Dad and Mom. Dad is a hippy, a musician, a scientist, an optimist. Mom is a theater-person, an ornery farm girl, and a businesswoman. There's alot of each of them in me. Dad and I are both optimists, and mom pointed out also that if Dad thinks he can help a person, he will try to do so. Even if it means overextending himself, getting zero gratitude, and sometimes even making no progress. If he thinks he can help, he'll go for it. And that's a weakness of mine. I've heard myself say that "Making someone else happy isn't enough in relationship. You've got to both love eachother." And dammit if it isn't the truth.

But last night, Dave was in a rough spot, and all I could think was "He's ready! He loves you now! You can help him! He'll stop crying if you go and love him! Isn't it worth making this person happy?" I don't know how I made it out of there, and I don't know how I ignored the cold draft in my heart and went to sleep. But I did.

I want so much in life to make people happy, because then they appreciate me and make me happy too. I put so much love into one person. I was so sure that this was the guy. I mean, my wandering eye was steadied, I never worried when he hung out with another girl. I think, for me, it was true love. I took happiness in his happiness, sadness in his misfortune. And it felt like I barely ever had to say anything too him, because we got eachother on a deeper level. I poured my heart out, and expected love in return. But there's a fortune cookie out there that says "He who expects no gratitude is never dissappointed." If only Dad and I could expect nothing in return for our help. Even when we do good, sometimes people take no notice or kick sand in our eyes, and we are deflated. We aren't that great. We aren't that helpful. And if we would just stop trying to be helpful, we'd be less dissapointed?

I wish I didn't have an injurable heart. I could save someone. But that's not how love works anyway, and so here I am. Crying again.

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