Things Fall Apart

The following is part of a three-part free write conjured up at work. Go figure.

01/26/10: They say that sometimes things have to fall apart for better things to fall into place. I guess this whole unexpected job opportunity that fell into my lap is living proof. I didn’t get the counseling job in San Leandro so that I could get the federally funded job with (slightly) better pay, more opportunities for growth, and, essentially, more ideal schedule on Treasure Island. I say “more ideal” as an idealistic optimist (for once!), if those grad school schemes and dreams work out.

01/30/10: So now my question is if I believe in this saying for all aspects of life. I thought I did, when Navy Boy walked back into my life out of nowhere, after two years, the same week I experienced my first real heartbreak. It was almost too serendipitous to be true, but that’s because it was. Who knows, maybe the same was happening with him, and he sought solace in familiarly unexplored territory. Who knows, I’m not about to be the one making excuses for him. Like majorejulian said, “God forgives, not me!” If anything, it’s not my job to do so.

So now the question is, have things in this aspect of life fallen apart to give way already? If not, just how far do we have to fall? I ask this question with a kind of dreaded anticipation because, deep down, though our shared sense of guilt and fear will prevent us from ever admitting it, we know just how far things actually can fall apart. Shoots, I’m about to consult Chinua Achebe for this. On a side not, I do wish now that I had actually finished/read that book.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: we’re all inherently selfish, in the end. I’ve now realized that my selfishness in this situation has played out in multiple ways. I, too, have become the one who wants to have her cake and eat it too; how ironic, considering that I used to be angry at someone and chastised this person for the very same reason. I’m not willing to give up either relation or connection, and we all know that the one who tries to stand on both sides of the canyon is the one who eventually has nothing left to stand on. We’re all selfish, in the end.

I’ve heard it said that it takes 30 days to break a habit. Press restart, because we’re now at Day 3.

01/31/10: Scratch that. Day 1. Yes, attempts count. Who knew I’d be the intoxicated dialing/texting type? Problem is, I swear I’m trying. I’m tryna be strong, because Marie Digby did point out that there’s a beauty in walking away. And I’ve never been the type to go back to something or someone that continuously hurts me, unless it’s unavoidable. And, real talk? While the person may not be avoidable, the situation very much is. But, it’s in those times of weakness that I find the situation unexplainably, irreverently irrevocable, breathing in an indelible high that constantly threatens to pull me down below the turbulent waters, where every moment we spend together is one more breath that has to be taken cautiously.

And while we’re typecasting, I’ve learned (or is it that I’ve always known and just recently recognized?) that I’m the heartbreaking, love ‘em and leave ‘em, “a kiss can be just a kiss” type. But I ain’t about to be the b-tch type that doesn’t make her intentions known straight up from the get, because in all honesty, I’m not tryna be the game-playing type. It’s only happened once, though I’ll let you guess with whom, however unintentional it may have been. I never wanted to be the “says one thing, does another, but really thinks and believes in something completely different” type, because please believe, I mos def hate on the mixed signals type as much as anyone else. But I guess those who send mixed signals are inherently the confused types, tryna figure out why they’re pursuing something that goes against every fundamental belief on which they’ve built every (healthy) relationship.

Or maybe, just as everyone is selfish in the end, everyone is also confused in the end; some are just better at hiding it than others.