On certain days, I feel as if the longer I’m here, in this place, the more I begin to realize how perfect this place is for me. On certain days, I look up at the sky and thank God for putting me in a place where I’ve gained so much, amongst people that I’ve learned so much from, whom I’ve grown because of.

Other days I feel a bit lost. I feel as if I need to be somewhere else. As if the flaws in my life stem directly from the environment that I’m in and that I need to venture elsewhere to discover the validity of that statement.

How can certain days feel so different and others just the same as they always have?

There are certain areas of my life that have improved drastically. I see that every semester I spend here I gain something new. Friends, a new sense of purpose or values, insight into the world, acceptance; are all things that I’ve always wanted and are things that I’ve found being here. But other areas of my life seem to be just as stale and static as ever. In those areas it seems nothing has changed and it makes me reconsider my position on how I feel about this place as a whole.

Is what I’ve gained all I can gain from this place? Have I reached my limit? Should I move on?

On one hand I’m more emotionally intact than I’ve ever been. I’m healing, growing, becoming more open to feeling, to acknowledging my emotions, and yet it feels as if I’m still static. Improving, but not acting on these improvements, not because I don’t want to, but because it doesn’t seem possible.

I’ve always been an all at once kind of girl but maybe I should start taking things in strides. I should wait for good things to come from the work I’ve put in, but what if they never come? Should I still wait? Isn’t there a limit on waiting? How long can I realistically wait to be acknowledged? Realistically, how long can I wait to be loved?

Sometimes I feel like I give so much love into the world, but it seems the world is just as selfish as mankind. It takes, but rarely gives back. But is that true? It could be I’ve just been putting eggs in the wrong baskets… but if that’s the case I’m a terrible gambler and probably need to quit while I’m ahead.

This is how it always is.

Can you keep a secret?

I suppose you’ve kept them all…

To me, he’s the perfect basket with the most perfect weaving and if I had a million baskets to choose from I’d still choose that one. Is that a good thing? Absolutely not. It’s painful and ridiculous. I should want a basket that wants me and my eggs (<— How odd…), but I don’t.

It’s a rather familiar feeling. With rather familiar reasoning. Accompanied with a rather familiar pain. Which altogether makes me think that maybe I should work on myself a bit more before I blame my problems on the whole institution.


Stupid baskets…


The Bell Curve

Bell-Curve“You know how when you don’t know someone you can tell them anything about yourself and be completely comfortable with it, but then when you get to know them better it gets harder and harder to tell them things?”

He looked at me inquisitively. It was a normal look for him. The slightly raised eyebrow. The intense glare that seemed both insightful and intimidating, causing me to search the building to escape his eyes.

“Yeah, I see what you’re saying, but I think it’s more of a bell curve. You know? Like when you first meet someone…” he paused so his palm could rub against the bottom of the imaginary bell shape. “it’s really hard to talk to them and really awkward, but then you get to know them better and it gets really easy,” his hand again paused. Above his head this time. “but soon it gets difficult all over again.”

I watched intently as his hand rode the opposite side of the bell. My thinking face on, an inquisitive glare, I watched as he set his hand back on the table and he continued to look at me.

“Yeah… Yes.” I decided. “That’s exactly what it is.”

We must be somewhere in between the top of the bell and the very beginning, I thought. I had just told him details of my life that I had never told anyone and it was surprisingly easy. And it also might have been a very bad idea.

He’s a tall guy, with a somewhat emaciated appearance, but also a careful and interesting insightfulness that intrigues me. The conversation started with that intrigue and ended with me exploring the ends of it. At the end I felt relieved. A burden had been lifted from me. A secret, that had never seemed to be a very good one anyway, had finally been released into the world. At the end of it I think he felt special, as if we had bonded, become closer. And we did, but only in the sense that we moved a little up the side of the bell curve. The bell curve meant to describe friendships that in my experience eventually dissolve into nothing… Friendships.