Remains

Conventionally exciting things are happening in my life again. This means I must blog about them so that my close writer friends will know how great it is to be uncontrollably confused and tired at the same time.

I'm not looking for anything. I'm happy alone now, surrounded by good friends, hilarious physics demonstrations, acceptable test scores. I didn't think about eating too much the past two weeks - I felt empty and content, not too cold, full of energy to run as I please, into the day and night.

But man, boys.

Seeing my past from this present perspective kind of sickens me. The sacrifices made for all of the unfulfilled promises, the emotional responsibility, the constant urge to take advantage of any time while living a life of lies right in front of my parents. The nagging lies that nothing is worth more than how special it feels to sense admiration. The distance from my friends, my broken focus, twisted priorities. For all the love that bound our tragic, our comedic romance, it wasn't enough to surpass our ages' maturity, our weakened faith, our inexperience.

Its been three weeks. With the exception of a week's worth of swollen eyes, the bloating feeling of overstuffing myself with pity is completely gone. People, events, objects - if they were meant to be together, then they would be. The scientific cosmos kind of dictates this absoluteness, but God is also sovereign. Whatever the answer is to predestination vs. free will, He is. So it is.

But its also been three weeks. The remnants of bitterness and anger remain. The expectation to be disappointed roars in my head. The constant reminder of all that's gone wrong tells me to stop. What do I really want? Not a repeated past. Not a future of flowers and math that will wilt with a hormonal drop in excitement. No sweet songs. No dinner dates.

Instead, a hollow, sickening feeling points itself to filling in the gap that was left behind. Some go-to satisfaction, something that can shelved and reshelved, distinctly. Something that can be killed in a button, but brought out in a wink. Something conventionally wrong. Something I hated before, before I knew how it felt, never forgave, and wanted so desperately to claim as my own. Something that can happen.

We ran tonight. The darkness did its job well - it hid what shouldn't have happened so quickly; it hid my utter confusion. It hid any desire, every bead of sweat. The sound of wheezing brought to life memories unwanted. We did run so much faster than I've felt in so long, like birds among trees, as if we were dancing in sprints. But I couldn't help it. Everything I didn't want presented itself. Everything I did want (with the exception of college, friends, food, badminton, family, overall well-being, and excellent physical hotness (just kidding)) presented itself.

I'm answering my own question. I know what I'm trying to pursue. But how could I tell anyone? How could I do this.