I Never Dreamed You’d Leave in Summer

I just wrote a really lengthy post about something I said I would never really discuss online again. I learned my lesson several years ago that regardless of how much of an “open book” I let myself be in writing, that there’s a line I can’t cross. There are things I can’t say and people I can’t out. There’s a line that I learned not to cross the hard way.

But this I will say:

I am not a fan of the long distance relationship. I have only seen one successful relationship come from it, and that’s because there was an endgame… and I think that’s the trick. If ultimately A knows they’re going to move to be with B, then this is a long distance relationship that might work. If A doesn’t want to move for B or B doesn’t want to move for A, but they want to continue traveling to meet up and/or maintain a digital relationship, that ain’t gonna cut it. Your relationship will die. Without a conclusion in sight, everyone is treading water.

Without someone making a sacrifice, the relationship is pointless. It’s a friendship where you fuck occasionally, and that is kind of ridiculous in the long run.

Maybe it doesn’t work for me because of how I function in relationships. Over the past few months, I’ve kind of clicked in to how finding chemistry with someone affects me and how my priorities ALWAYS change when I’m in a relationship. I think this is the longest I’ve been single in about 6 years. At times, it’s kind of nice, and also, it can be really lonely. Up until incredibly recently, I thought I knew exactly what I wanted and that I was going to make the sacrifices to make it happen… I was going to put my disdain aside and move back to LA. This by no means would solve any problem, but it would slightly improve it. It’s half assing it, really, but in my mind it was pushing for an endgame… a resolution.

I’m not sure if I can do it anymore. I think I’ve reached my breaking point.

Did that final puzzle piece get found under the couch? Have I put it in the puzzle and realized I’d been wasting my time pounding together pieces of cardboard? Why am I wasting my time on something that might not matter in the slightest? I can’t stand the thought of looking back on my twenties and wish I’d done it differently. If I’m going to regret anything in my life, I hope it’s because I’m happy, and I wish I had done more to make myself happy now, not if I’m unhappy and I wish I hadn’t made the wrong choices and ended up that way. I’ve seen that happen to too many people too many times…

I suppose my biggest failure will come to light in my August writing project, currently entitled “The Untitled August Writing Project.” I think I’ve reached a point in that piece where I realize what a bubble I was in when I started, and now I’m removed enough away from it that I can almost tune in and point out a giant list of mistakes. I told my mother about it via email today… I knew that when I started writing it that I would have to tell her before I published it, because if it ever got back around to her, or if she ever read it without being informed, there was a possible chance of devastation. My mother doesn’t deserve that in the slightest. I sincerely hope she’s excited for me and my personal progress… she’s always been my biggest fan of my professional successes. I’m ready for her to read something I write and want her to tell other people about it. I’m not sure if this project is the platform for it, but it’s a start. I hope she’s pleasantly surprised.

This post was kind of ridiculous. I talked about too many “DO NOT TOUCH” issues in one very vague, yet cryptic, post. I really hope that none of it is misinterpreted and that if anyone were to feel like I was speaking to them, they bring it to me instead of assuming the worst. It is likely that none of this is about you. It never is.