Suffering

I spent so much time suffering that even though it's been a while, I'm still not sure how to do things any other way.  The past couple of years have seen me in a number of different states.  At first it was good because everything was new and exciting.  And then it was good because I thought I was in love.  Then it wasn't.  I made mistakes and I had to pick up the pieces.  There were many, many pieces.  That was probably the start of all the hurting.  Because so much had happened in the course of a couple of months that that summer I had to come to terms with all of it, and it wasn't easy.  I think there might still be pieces I haven't picked up and things I haven't come to terms with from that time.

Just when I thought I was getting things together, other things fell apart because I fell in love.  And if you know me then you know that I'm absolutely hopeless when I fall in love.  Of course, as per usual, it was unrequited.  Which occupied me nicely and drove me to more suffering.  I got good at feeling pain and dealing with it.  I still think there's beauty in agony and maybe that makes me a terrible person or maybe I just don't understand some things, but that's the way I see it.

I know I'm not supposed to think or feel this way, but sometimes I miss it.  I miss hurting.  I miss all of the things that dug into me and threatened to tear me to shreds because it hurt so much.  I know it's not right, but I don't know how to fix it.  If I had to guess, I'd imagine it means that I still have unresolved issues and unsolved problems in my life.  That leaves me to figure out what exactly they are and how I can go about fixing them.  I have a few guesses, because thinking back on certain times still makes me uncomfortable and rereading old conversations from given situations makes me cringe.

So maybe I just need to talk about it.  Out loud.  Not just writing about it because I always do strange things when I write like only writing from a certain standpoint or avoiding names or leaving out particular details.  Even when I'm not blogging where I do it on purpose, but when I'm writing privately, just for myself, I do odd things stylistically that don't make sense and don't get the full picture across.  And maybe if I wrote about things that bother me in every way I could think of doing it, I'd finally get to the heart of the problem.  But I'm so afraid that it wouldn't help.  Or maybe I just want to really talk about it because it feels the way being in love used to, forbidden.  There are things I don't want to say because I know that nobody can say anything back, and that just hurts everyone involved.

Sometimes I think that songs need to be longer.  Sometimes a certain feeling inspired by a song just needs to go on and there's no other song that really does it the way this one does, but playing it again is cheating and it's no longer the same.  I used to be able to pinpoint emotions with music but I can't anymore because every song is a mix of what I used to feel and what I understand, but I can never find anything to express the way I do feel in a given moment.  A moment like this anyway, where I'm sitting here, just me, letting music flow around me and wondering why none of it sounds quite right anymore.

I've never been a music person.  I never owned music until a year or two ago.  Before then I hardly knew what anyone listened to.  And a year or two ago, when I started listening to music (which was, to be fair, only because I fell in love with someone who loves music), started figuring out the names of songs and artists, I found things that made sense to me and that, in my hurt and bitter condition, I could relate to.  And I can still relate, but it's never the same, because I know I'm no longer hurting the way I was then.  I think that something still hurts.  I just can't put my finger on it.  I don't know what it means or how to express it.  I don't know how to talk about it and I don't know any music that channels it.

So I'm left without a way of expressing how I feel except for writing like this, in spurts that are unrelated and can't be connected because they don't make sense to me.  It's hopeless flailing in the dark, trying to isolate something when I don't know how to locate it.  It's by far better than the way I felt some time back, so I feel bad when I try to figure it out because I know that it gets so much worse.  I feel like I don't have a right to complain because it's really not bad...I just don't understand what the hell it is, and that's confusing.