Were you expecting a spring season first episodes post? Nah. Don’t actually read this post, okay?
I turned 20 today, and last night I made a breakup happen for the first time in my life. I sure hope it’s the last, but even saying that makes me feel naive. So as any amateur soprano might, I went to my basement and hit some high notes. I’d have sung “Just be Friends,” but that wouldn’t have been suitable, because it was really a frank end to a non-toxic relationship. Besides, “Last Night, Good Night” goes higher. I think this song summarizes my mood last night pretty well.
Please don’t expect musical content if you dare to click it. My phone can’t pick up high notes without harmonizing them with weird sounds, and even after I lowered the pitch by a few keys, it’s still doing it. Probably also the location. I guess breakup songs just aren’t supposed to be pretty.
Writing about stuff is supposed to be healthy. I do believe that, and love the sincerity of other people’s rants on WordPress. I am a ranty and introspective type of person too when it comes to things in life, but there are other factors I must take into consideration this time, so you are spared from a full rant that includes any context.
What’s a breakup supposed to feel like? I mean, everybody experiences one differently, but what I feel is not what I expected a breakup to feel like. What does a breakup feel like to you? I am seriously curious. I barely slept last night, and all I’ve been feeling was concern and guilt. I know, however, that these feelings will fade with time, and that it would not even take a very long time before I can start doing everything I should be doing. In fact, it will be within today, out of necessity. It won’t be a repression of feelings, but a moving on from it. It makes me feel cruel.
I don’t think I’m a person who’s incapable of love, even though he’s only been a wonderful person to me. I don’t know since when, but I felt more motherly towards him than girlfriend-like. I don’t think I conveyed my reasons for having a breakup very well. It was not an excess of love that I couldn’t handle. I felt sorry that I couldn’t match up to it, but above that, I felt sorry for the one having to put energy into it. It occurred to me already that this wouldn’t have worked out, regardless of the amount of love I was receiving. If he finds someone more worthy of love than me, I hope he doesn’t refrain from loving her.
What had been the true reason then? Something uglier on my part, perhaps. Since the thought of being in a moratorium period drove me to despair near the end of high school, I’ve been pushing myself to various extents, so hungry to learn, to know, to better myself in some way. It was to fill a void that came from a sense of inadequacy. As a result, it’s always been five courses a term for me, with at least one or two side hustles going on at any given point. Life is short, and I felt the scary desire to saturate every waking moment with relevance. I got approval for some things I was doing, and generally felt positive, fulfilled, and productive. It was the feeling of doing something, and the certainty of knowing exactly how things could be done. That is a reason why I don’t know how to cope with a long-distance, online relationship that is neither full of certainty nor entirely productive. I could have waited, but the act of waiting is frightening.
In the duration of this relationship, I’ve failed very badly to communicate. My natural instincts lead me to comply rather than disagree even when I was aware of some of the troubles I was having. It was not his fault, and I sincerely hope he understands that. We had good moments, and that should be what matters.
So there, the first truly moya-moya post on The Moyatorium. I haven’t felt moya-moya in a while.