#04: An Abundance of Profundity.

It’s 10:45. I’m hot and sweaty. The A/C is off. The air is thick. Another day of not doing much, the sixth day of my vacation to be precise, but I’m feeling good. It was over 100 Fahrenheit today, roughly converted that’s 38 degrees Celsius, aka something I’m not used to. My body doesn’t mind too much, I’m happy here, it appears to be a case of mind over matter. The fan on the ceiling is chugging along, trying to chivy the air into a cool breeze. It’s a fruitless attempt, the air is stubbornly stagnant.


‘I really, I just don’t get it. At all.’ My cousins voice cuts the silence. She’s talking about her friend recently dispositioned to the land of drug abuse. He’s playing on her mind, he’s not the same she says. We talk about him for a while, then to a more abstract discussion of drugs. I feel bad for her, I do. I know how she feels, only it wasn’t just one friend for me, it was several and it wasn’t just a friend, it was two of my siblings. Drugs aren’t terrible, they’re bad for you and they’re dangerous but as long as one doesn’t succumb to addiction I think they’re ok - but what do I know? I’m no expert. We return to talking about guys, we talk about male friends and ex boyfriend, the cross between the two and future relationships. I tell her all the history of my love life; considering the members of that club it shouldn’t be too long a story but I guess they all came and left with a fair share of baggage, perhaps one more then the rest… admittedly he was the only one of real consequence. This conversation lasts a while, it savours in a profound feeling of something I can’t quite place… regret? My story seems naked, hanging in the air of a strange place with no essence of familiarity to clothe it. The words seem strange even just leaving my lips to now exist in a place of which our relationship never explored. I tell her about my current situation, my body taking a sigh of relief as the burden of secrecy is unloaded. Not intentional secrecy mind, just a content ‘doesn’t need to be spoken about’ secrecy, until now. Once I start speaking, it’s hard to stop - these thoughts and feelings have been kept hostage for the longest time, yearning for the opinion of another to guide me on my way. That moment has arrived and it’s exactly what I wanted it to be. She offers me the advice I think I’ve been needing: to go forward, to not look back, to make sure that whatever I do, I put myself first, to make sure that my choices make me happy. Kind of cliché but still appropriate. I internally swear to myself that I’ll adhere to that advice, it’s reasonable and well balanced. Now it’s her turn, she offers me the stories of her past, her I love yous and her heartbreaks though she requires no advice so my input is minimal - just understanding mms and aahs in the appropriate places. The conversation dwindles to a natural halt and in the strange silence I’m left wondering if I could’ve changed how things turned out. I know I could’ve, I easily could’ve but it’s a case of easier said than done. I’m a runner, that’s what I do. I run away from things that scare me, I run from things that are more powerful than myself, from things that I don’t understand and can’t control. That’s why I avoid relationships - because they scare me, they are more powerful than I am, they pertain so much I don’t understand and they are completely beyond my control. They scare the hell out of me, that’s completely sans my opinion on love too but alas, that’s for another time. For now, I’m going to focus on my fear of relationships and I’m going to try to overcome it, for the only thing worth fearing, is fear itself.