Sunday, October 9, 2016

Remember when we had three emotions?

Remember when we could classify things--people, places, objects, ideas--into these three specific categories? Happiness meant horses and reading and cheeseburgers and caramel ice cream and playdates with friends. Sadness meant no horse lessons, saying good-bye, too many chores, and long car rides. Anger meant fights with family members, when Mom took away the DS, and long division (with remainders).

It’s strange now, how complex my emotions and relationships have become. Respect mingled with frustration mingled with a lack of sleep turns into passive-aggressive backlash. Good history, slammed together with bad blood and an overwhelming sense of loneliness, turns into dysfunctional silence. Awareness of my own need for human interaction, partnered with distaste at the sins of humanity (including my own), just makes me want to be a recluse.

Honestly. I’ve actually considered it.

The older we get, the more layered we become. We learn to hide our lies and our truths, learn how to attack people without actually attacking them, learn not to confront, learn to restrain, learn keep building walls and dams higher and higher, so as to hold back our own emotions.

And we learn to let it go.

We learn how to release. We learn how to forgive. We learn how to talk to people, really talk to them.
But I miss it.

I miss the times when I only had three emotions. I miss the times when I could categorize things, when I thought that my friendships were deep enough. Depth of emotion supposedly lets me make better connections, but the older I’ve gotten, the more isolated I feel. And I don’t know why.
Maybe I just haven’t met the right people. Maybe I’m not easy to get along with. Maybe I’m not deep enough. Or maybe I’m too deep.

Maybe I’m too picky with who I hang out with. Maybe I’m too desperate, and it exudes from me. Maybe I’m too clingy.

I don’t know.

I don’t know.

I don’t know.

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