I’ve learned that over the years there will be moments when something happens that’s just too much. The corresponding thoughts and feelings are jumbled, leaving you unable to decide what exactly is going on in your mind. One such event happened to me last night and the resulting emotions have left me confused, to say the least. So I’m going to do what I always do when these little mind jumbles happen.
This one’s for the people who have to talk about it — write about it — to figure out how they feel about it.
This one’s for those who have ever indulged. The people who see an opportunity for something potentially great and leap for it, even if it’s just for a couple seconds. For those who felt freedom in those seconds and reveled in it after years of letting opportunities pass by. Years in which signals crossed, or were ignored completely out of fear or insecurity.
This one’s for the people who were then so rudely jolted back to reality. Those whose minds wouldn’t give them more than a brief moment because of responsibility and a sense of “wrongness.” Those who once again let their left brain take control and ruin everything and the good fucking time everyone was having. It’s for those who now feel guilty for thinking they shouldn’t have let logic take over. They should have just gone with the damn flow, for once.
This one’s for anyone who has ever been overwhelmed by someone. The people who have moments where they look at somebody and are taken aback for a second, stunned by beauty and overcome with love. The people who try every day to act “chill,” tone down their emotions and not ruin everything by having “feelings.” Because how lame are feelings, right?
This one’s for bad timing. For the days/weeks/years when things get disjointed — out of place. When something good happens in the complete wrong place on the timeline. Too late. Or early?
This one’s for being so affected that you become completely unaware of your limbs — being so all over the place that afterwards you can’t remember where this hand was or who moved where. It seems you can only take responsibility for your left hand, but, where was your right? What about the rest of your body? Where were her hands? You’d like to remember. You’d give so much to know, but you can’t grasp it.
This one’s for having only half the picture. A blurry picture, at that.
This one’s for the people who feel hypocritical — who feel like they have betrayed themselves for a stitch in time. The ones who preach this and that, but cannot trust themselves to not screw up unexpectedly. They say that we all make mistakes, (a trite and overused cliche) but it’s always harder when we’re the ones making mistakes.
This one’s for the people who have to remind themselves that life is both very long and very short and to worry about anything besides this single moment has the potential to ruin the next one.
Alternatively, this one’s for those who remind themselves that living selfishly and taking what you want regardless of consequences or the feelings of others is not the way to be, either.
This one’s for compromises and meeting in the middle, I suppose.
This one’s for feeling like you’re overreacting — like you’re the only one who actually cares — and, therefore, you’re being dramatic and annoying and you’re making it more than what it was. It was nothing. Not really.
This one’s for being unsure about where you stand. It’s for feeling like it all meant more to you than it should have.
This one’s for feeling embarrassed and ashamed of that.
This one’s for let downs. It’s for waiting your whole life for a moment, then having that moment come in a strange and unexpected way. You’re happy it happened, sure. Milestones are important. Living life and squeezing in all of its shared experiences is important. That doesn’t mean you can’t wish for more, though.
This one’s for sense memory and those times after when it seems you can recall a single second so vividly that your muscles almost experience it all over again.
This one’s for feeling like you’re part of the club.
This one’s for feeling guilty, and somehow guilty for not feeling guilty.
This one’s for wanting to do it again.
This one’s for never wanting to do it again.
This one’s for years of pent-up … something — whatever it was.
This one’s for the girl who looked like a Tarantino character.
P.S. This post was inspired by this song. It’s a song that at one point was my only solace — my anthem.