Who Knows?
“I’m in like with you. Not in love with you, quite yet. My heart’s beginning to… slightly overrule my head. Oh no, oh no, my self control - it won’t hold up for very long. Oh no, oh no, you touch my soul, I can’t help falling too fast for you. Can you hold on a bit? Stop before we go? Cause I might need a moment and I wouldn’t want to spoil it. Who knows if I am ready or not - only time will tell. Who knows if we are ready to make this something? Who knows?”
I don’t like distractions when I write.
So, I sign off, close all of my other open browser windows, hole myself in my room (or some other private area) and I allow myself to relax.
When I write I want to be open.
There is a lot that needs to be said, there’s always a lot to be said, and because I don’t write as often as I used to, I find that these words are slowly burning their way into my soul - and that isn’t necessarily a good thing.
As this winter break draws to a close, it dawns on me that there are some things I’ve forgotten, some things I’ve left behind, some things I’m hesitant to reach for, and some things that I haven’t let go of. While these words might paint a different picture or scenario for you - I’m almost positive what you think isn’t what I’m trying to tell you.
I was spinning in a chair, the other day, at my friend’s apartment in Davis. I spun and laughed, socialized, and just enjoyed my time with other people. He came over to pick me up, patiently waiting next to me as I spun and conversed, not hurrying or demanding me to stop. The topic of majors came up, what am I majoring in, why, law school, etc - and I made it clear, though I had never, ever made it clear to him (specifically) before, that if given the choice between marriage and my dream job that I would always, always, always pick my dream job.
A small, significant, aspect that he had never known about me.
Today, he came back from a bit of a disheartening study hour, and I tried to cheer him up. As I rolled out of bed, I tossed on his UC Davis Engineering hoodie, and stood to speak to him. I don’t remember what I was saying, I don’t even remember if it was an interruption or just a change of topic, but he goes, “I want a law school sweater.” “What?” “A law school sweater.” “You want a law school sweater?” “Yeah. I want the school of law’s sweater of the school that you(‘ll) go to. Then I can wear it around and be like, ‘My girlfriend goes here.’”
I have to be completely honest. Sometimes I’m not entirely sure if I am in love with him. Often, I tell myself that I’m not. Maybe it’s a fond affection, or a strange attachment, but what I feel for him is not even in the ballpark of what I used to feel for him.
But that? Things like that conversation, things that happen a lot more often than you think it would - make my heart melt and make me believe that this has to be love. His eagerness to please me, though not always crystal clear, is his constant intent. When buying groceries, he made it a point to purchase all of my favorite foods, just to please me. He made me dinner, always made sure I was well fed, encouraged me to do whatever I wanted with my time, held me while he slept, cuddled with me while I was awake - all of these small things make me… happy.
It’s not easy, it never is, and the problems that we face are very big and very real. Sometimes, I freak out because the past is just around the corner, and the chances of the past repeating are so high that people would put very large amounts of money on it.
But… who knows?
- - - - -
Other than talking about that, because I feel like that is all I ever talk about…
Do you know what is absolutely invigorating? What is liberating, refreshing, and just a tiny bit vengeful?
When the Filipino mom who used to hate you, who used to say very mean things about you, is completely and utterly impressed with you and what you’re doing with your life.
Boo. Ya.
And while I still have a long ways to go, while I still have lots to do and a lot more things to do to prepare - I can’t help but feel smug. I know I used to feel very bad about my life, like there was no bright light at the end of the tunnel, but every day I can’t help but appreciate the life I have now. It isn’t perfect. I don’t have my best friend around, my soulmate seems to be a stranger, and I’m drowning in mediocrity.
It isn’t perfect.
But, the feeling of…
How do I even put it into words?
After being looked down on (a little bit) for going to community college, after people patting me on the head and saying, “That’s nice, dear,” after struggling so hard to make some sort of difference - to make people see that there’s more to me than just big dreams…
To have them look at me, not only with respect, but with a little bit of awe. To have people other than my parents brag about me. To have his parents brag a little about me. You’re damn right I feel awesome.
And yeah, I feel like bragging a little.
It isn’t about the name of my school or what I did to get there or what I intend to do with my life and career. It’s not necessarily about those things. It’s about the respect. Never in my life have I ever felt so respected than I have now. Incidentally enough, I’ve also never so dumb or so ghetto.
I know these words aren’t flowery or gushy, pretty or poetic - but honestly? This is what I wanted to say. I’ve never been so proud of myself than I have been now. And while I’m very aware of things that I still need to change, (my grade point average, for example. While it isn’t horrible, it isn’t exactly stellar either.) it’s just nice.
Yeah, I know. I need to get back to writing about the good stuff. The angst and the hardship. And I will, once the semester starts back up. But for now, I am unbelievably content with how things have turned out.
(And yes, life, that is NOT a challenge to see how bad you can mess things up. I am content, but I do not want to be anywhere NEAR the vicinity of miserable, thanks.)
(… Seriously. Please. I can’t handle bad things right now.)
And with that, God, please - calm my paranoia. Don’t let anything bad happen to my family or my friends (and me too! :)). Please watch over us all.
