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on the velocity of sadness and the apparent demise of the self.
So, as you may have noticed from context, or the blatant statements made on twitter and Facebook, as of a few weeks ago, my long since ex-fiancee is now an ex-everything else. Which is, y’know… a thing. We’re still on good terms, overall, and I’m not going to rehash the details or the actual circumstances or anything, both out of respect to her and because frankly it’s no one else’s business. But suffice to say, I now find myself very single, and without any sort of marker to guide me in the night seas.
The weird thing, and the reason I’ve actually started writing this, is that I’m not sad. Like, really, I should feel something about this, correct? But I feel nothing. No sense of closure, no big epiphany, no real melancholy. Just the same general state of ennui and existential angst I’ve been in for the past whatever months. And I’m not sure why. I question myself on this. As in, is this lack of feeling intrinsic to the situation? To be fair, this has been a slow downward spiral over the last few months, so it was no real surprise. And honestly, I should have seen this coming from the moment we walked our separate ways at the security gate in JFK back at the end of July.
What I’m really wondering is, is this lack of emotion over it “real”? As in, is there really nothing going on in my heart of hearts, or am I just not acknowledging it and bottling everything up, and it will be released at some awkward time? Like when I was driving home from work one night, and Jimmy Eat World’s “23” came on my cd player and I started crying in the middle of the Girard Point Bridge over my cousin’s suicide 6 months after the fact. Am I going to be halfway through a work shift and suddenly become a living example of a Dashboard Confessional song?
This is what concerns me. Because the very aspect of me questioning it should indicate that no, there is no hidden well-spring, and that I really am ok. But that might be worse, because it would mean either A) I have no depth of feeling to draw from and are really a dead and soulless husk of a human that will never know love or companionship again and just drift from shore to shore in the sea of existence futilely trying to reach the next port and always sailing right past it over the edge of the world, or B) I just got over it very quickly. I suppose the latter would be preferable.
And really, that’s what it comes down to: am I over this? I did something I normally wouldn’t a week or so ago, and made a profile on OKCupid. It was 4 in the morning and I couldn’t sleep, which is when decisions that aren’t the best are made by me. I’m not sure I’m ready to “date” or “sleep around” or whatever. I’ve actually never been that type of person anyway. Dating weirds me out, and I’m not sure how to handle it. The funny thing is, I’ve already met a few girls/women through it, and actually hung out with one at a bar. And she’s pretty cool. But again: am I ready for this? Is this what I want, a life of bar hopping and bed hopping, while my self identity slowly erodes and I become akin to that one guy you see in every bar, sitting by himself, leering at the younger women while he slowly nurses his one whiskey he can afford?
Ok, I might’ve said too much in this. Fuck it, it’s going up. I’ve got nothing to hide or anything at stake at this point. I just want to make a great album, and have a good job that isn’t killing me, and maybe a puppy eventually. So yes, so yes, ok, yes.
This hasn’t helped. This confession has meant nothing.
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