September 18, 2009

• Summer

  I'll feel like a fool if I don't build a foundation for who I am at the moment and just jump right in to complaints about seemingly random topics out of the blue.

  I graduated.  It wasn't as hard as I had once expected it to be.  When one reaches the third year of an undergraduate engineering career, one thinks it must go on forever and that an eventual diploma is simply a cruel joke, a piece of meat on a string tied in front of a starving dog.  However, that turned out not to be the case, and yet as I shook hands with my mentors and grabbed my diploma booklet from their outstretched hands I couldn't help wishing that it HAD been a cruel joke and that my time as an undergraduate would never end. 

  In this case I should say something about wishing that I could continue learning and growing in a welcoming environment and blah blah blah, but the truth is that I was afraid.  I, being one of the bravest people I know, had never considered that this blood curdling fear was even remotely possible.  As a cheap photographer snapped my picture and my tassel fell into my right eye for the hundredth time a single tear developed.  I was going somewhere else.  Anyone who had ever meant anything to me was not.  They would all be left behind, or rather I would be left behind as I drove away from them, especially by her.  I let the fear run through me.  While I was packing, while we were loading the cars, while we were driving to my temporary summer residence, I hid my tears of fear and desperation.  I felt like the world was running by me and I was left dizzy and confused in its wake.

  Then we unpacked.  We settled in.  I felt mildly better.  I was only an hour away and we could go and visit.  We started our summer jobs.  I worked packing books in a distribution warehouse from 6 AM - 3 PM every day while he worked the graveyard shift as a hotel desk attendant.  It was hard to sleep alone, especially since all we had was a futon we had found by the dumpster at our apartment complex, but we kept it up because we needed the money.  She was still within arms reach in a way and nearing the end I made what I think is a mistake and a blessing at the same time.  I told her how I felt and she was taken aback.  She never really told me what she thought about the whole thing.  I know that this means no, but I'm not one to accept that answer unless it is a direct one, so I floundered and writhed in frustration as she rolled in back and forth in her mind for a while.  I became so frustrated in the end that I almost told her to fuck off and leave me alone if she wasn't going to accept me as a partner rather than a friend, but I didn't because I hang on to things for too long as well.

  He and I got married, sometime in June, I don't remember when because we're going to celebrate our anniversary on Halloween instead.  It was small and sweet and just what I wanted.  I wore a navy blue dress and he wore his favorite jeans and my favorite button down shirt on him.  We invited her and she didn't come.  Thinking back I don't really know what I expected her to do.  Honestly, this is the part that made it feel like a mistake to tell her anything.

  Suddenly, and I mean that because three months seems like the blink of an eye when you are busy, we were moving again.  The fear took hold again, as well as the uncontrollable crying.  I just kept thinking about her and all the friends I was leaving behind and how I could never replace them and sometimes I would just cry.  I would cry and cry and cry and then take a shower so I could cry without my husband hearing.  I don't think I've really told anyone because I hate crying and being weak, but I couldn't help it this time.  Leaving your undergrad isn't the same as leaving high school in any way.  I was happy to leave high school, the names, the reputations, the people, the shitty friendships that I kept up because I had no one else, but with my undergrad I felt like I was leaving my real home, the home where my heart is or whatever people say.  While we were packing and moving and unpacking I hid it all.  I pretended like I was excited and happy and joyful and tra la la and all that.  I waved exuberantly goodbye to everyone, friends and family but immediately after I always cried.  I cried after the last time I saw my friends for dinner.  I cried after my parents left my new apartment.  I cried so much and hid it from everyone, except for small portions of crying in my husband's arms.

  But we were here.  We had moved in.  I busied myself straightening up the apartment and learning about the town.  We found restaurants we liked and fun places to be and even a few new friends.  I still had weeks before school was starting and I spent most of that time really acquainting with the town.  We certainly liked it when we got there and still do.  It's a really nice college town much like my undergrad and that really helped lessen my crippling sadness about moving.  I think the internet is also due some gratitude for making it really easy to keep in touch.  I eventually settled in and realized that moving away doesn't mean the place you were before somehow disappears as does everyone's memory of you ever existing.  However, I still felt like she was trying to forget about us.  Sometimes I could swear I felt a kind of mental pressure from her trying to push me away and get rid of the memories.  I know I was imagining it but it felt horrible all the same.  Still, I was glad I had been up front with her and told her how I was feeling.  I just kept wishing that she would change her mind and suddenly tell me that she had fallen madly in love with me.  Spoiler for later posts, it didn't happen.  And that was my summer.

  • 3:09 pm
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