Forever Empty

If I had talked to you in April, I would have told you that I was struggling to accomplish basic tasks of life, personal hygiene, going to school, going to work, doing homework, getting out of bed.

If I had talked to you in June I would have told you that I was feeling much better. I would have told you about how I loved the summertime and my new job. But I also might have told you that sometimes I wonder how long my interest will last, because sometimes I take a deep breath and I see what I'm doing and I know that the novelty will wear off and when I'm through with being interested in it I will hate it just like everything else. But I wouldn't mean hate, what I would really mean is that I wouldn't feel anything for it. I would simply stop wanting to do it, and I would rather do something else, or rather do nothing. But thinking about that would have made me feel uncomfortable, so I probably just would have told you that I'm learning new things, but sometimes the days are long and the work is hard.

If I had talked to you in July I would have told you that I upped my prozac and I was beginning to feel a different kind of happy. I would have used the word happy but I wouldn't have meant happy. I would have meant that I felt something. Something that was different than what I was used to, something that although I wasn't used to it, seemed to fit with what I thought normal might actually be. I would have meant that I was feeling in a way that I had never felt before. I wouldn't have told you that it was hard and strange and bothersome and sometimes I didn't like it, because I would have felt like I was saying, I don't like being normal. 

If I had talked to you in August I would have been better able to tell you about my feelings. I would have told you about how they were new and yet still felt familiar. How they seemed more normal but were inconsistent and seemed to come up at strange times. I would have told you about feeling insecure in the car this one time with Tash. How I rambled on about nothing and then suddenly was embarrassed and wondered what she thought of me. Wondered if she thought I was dumb or annoying and if maybe I was actually those things. I would have told you that I had never felt that way before. I would have told you how I recognized the feeling and thought it was silly but couldn't stop it. I would have told you that I had to get away from her to get away from the feeling and so I lay in the trailer and cried. I also would have told you about feeling happy. A real kind of happy. I would have told you how it happened when I looked at my friends and thought about how much I loved them. I would have told you how for the first time in my memory I understood why people talked about hearts and love and all that sort of stuff as a feeling in your chest. Because I felt it. I felt it in my chest. I would have had to take a moment to explain that I had never physically felt like that. How I thought it was funny that all this time I had said I was happy but maybe I never was. Maybe before I was just distracted. Underneath whatever thing my mind was focused on and my smiles and interest there was nothing. There wasn't anything there. I would have explained that this kind of happy was full, and deep, and seemed so simple. I would have told you that I felt sad too and that seemed very similar to real happy. I would have expected you to think that was a strange thing to say but I would have meant it. I would have explained that happy and sad were both full and deep and simple and they both well up in your chest. I would have explained that it made perfect sense that they were similar, maybe all feelings have that in common, and maybe that's why for the first time feeling happy made me want to cry. Because real happy is beautiful, and it's hard to keep inside of you. And so is sad. I would have told you about how refreshing it was to feel a sad that was full, and simple. I would have told you that I thought it was beautiful. 

If I had talked to you in August I might not have told you about crying to my mother when she left to Nova Scotia and I had to pack up all my things. I might not have told you because I was feeling a lot of things and they didn't feel simple. I wouldn't have known how to explain that I almost had a panic attack on the way to her house but wouldn't know how to tell you that I didn't think it was related to me crying over her moving. How I told my mom that I was scared and sad that I didn't think I could ever really love anyone. And that wouldn't have been a lie but it wouldn't have been the full truth either. Because I was also feeling nostalgic and missed her. If I had decided to tell you this story it would have been to tell you about how my mom didn't think for a second that I was crying about her leaving, how not once in the last ten years have I ever been sad about a thing like that. A thing that was simple. So I didn't even know how to explain to her that I was sad she was leaving, and didn't want to, because on the slight chance that she would have actually believed me, it would have devastated her. Because I think the only thing that makes my mom feel okay about being on the other side of the country is that there isn't a thing that she can ever do to make my sad feelings go away, because they'd never been real feelings before, they'd never been simple. I also might not have told you about being upset with my roommate. I wouldn't have wanted to tell you about how I was hurt over something. I would have found it difficult to talk about feeling hurt because it was also new, and I didn't think it was as noble a feeling as happy or sad, and somehow I thought it made more vulnerable than I was when I felt insecure.  I would have said vulnerable, but I might have meant weaker, I wouldn't have been sure.

If I had talked to you at the end of August I would have told you about Tash and about feeling angry. Or I might have said irritated instead of angry, because I was confused about how exactly they were different. I'm still confused about that. I would have started by telling you good things. I would have told you how I've never been so content to be around someone before, how the simple fact that I never got tired of her was almost bewildering. Then I would have mentioned how I sometimes flipped between being happy about caring about her, and sometimes hating the effect she could have on my feelings. If you had asked me to explain that I would have told you about the night she was drunk and I was in sylvan lake and I was worried and mad about her because she was being unsafe, and how I tried not to worry because I do things like that all the time and treat people who worry about me like it's a stupid and unreasonable thing to do. And I would explained how confusing that was for me because I'd never really worried about anyone before and I had certainly never been mad about someone who did something that didn't directly affect me. And as soon as that sentence was out of my mouth I would have realized howI had just betrayed how little importance I had always given to feelings. How limited my understanding of their effect was. How I acted as though the law of cause and effect was strictly limited to the physical realm. I would have then told you about what an asshole I was the next day, and what a stark contrast it was to the night before and how all of a sudden I didn't care and I was so relieved to not have those feelings. I would probably be rambling by that point and told you about how after that I suddenly was convinced that I had lead Tash to believe that I was caring and nice and wasn't either of those things. I would have had a hard time explaining about how the day that I made plans with her and didn't follow through I didn't really do it on purpose. But in a way I felt like I did.
After that I probably would have thought it was strange that I had so many dramatic things to say and would have told you that we worked it out and she told me she hadn't been duped and she was okay with my weird feelings and how comforted and silly that made me feel. I would have told you that she challenged me and cared about me in ways I had never allowed anyone to before and although that irritated me, I appreciated it. And I would have shrugged my shoulders and said, and she wanted to date, and I was open to the idea, and want should always trump indifference. I would have said that even though I wasn't sure I was suited to being someone's girlfriend. I was glad I was.