I’m gonna try something I've never done before. I know that
this blog gets about as many views as a video of a cow eating grass on Youtube.
So I’m going to exploit that a little bit. For once, I’m going to be selfish
and post about my actual, real, honest feelings. I’m going to just type what I've been too scared to say out loud for quite a while. So think of this as a
diary entry, but with less chance of people reading it.
I've been struggling with a lot of huge decisions lately.
Decisions that could affect my future career, my relationships, and that could
ultimately affect the person I turn out to be.
I have 2 options of where to go study after school, which,
as I've realized, in this day and age is quite something. I have the amazing
opportunity to be able to choose where to go to university instead of being
forced to go to one. I know what a blessing this is, but, if I’m honest, its
frikken terrifying. It’s not exactly like the two schools are a few minutes
apart, or a few minutes away from home. On the contrary, one is in another
province. And that’s the one I’m leaning towards.
I have the opportunity to choose between Stellenbosch
University and Rhodes University. I have been accepted to study toward a
Bachelor of Journalism degree at Rhodes and a Bachelor of the Arts degree at
Stellenbosch. I’m sure you’re thinking “why the hell are you even considering
Stellenbosch, you moron?” Hell, I know I have. The thing is, I’m barely 18
years old. I might be dead set on being a journalist now, but what if I get to
my second year and suddenly I find that I’m in over my head? What if I realize that I’m not cut out to be a journalist? By that time, my parents will already
spent thousands of rands on my tuition and hostel fees. I can’t stand the
thought of wasting their money like that.
Then, of course, is the distance from home. An 8 hour drive
from Paarl, it’s not exactly like I can shoot through from Grahamstown for a
weekend. That doesn't bother me as much as the fact that I’m far away from the
friends I've made who are all going to Stellenbosch. Yes, I know I’ll make new
friends, but that’s another thing I’m scared of. I’m scared Grahamstown changes
me into something I don’t want to be. I’m scared I become someone my friends
(and, frankly, my 18 year old self) will not want to know anymore. I’m scared I
lose contact with the people who've been there for me for the past 12 years in
favour of people I haven’t even met yet. That part sounds very irrational now
that I think about it, but still. It’s a possibility.
“Then go to Stellenbosch if you’re so scared,” you might
say. But then I’m gonna reply with “I know I’m gonna hate myself for the rest
of my life if I don’t go to Rhodes.” It’s quite the internal debate sometimes I
tell you.
Although the above has been consuming my thoughts (along
with my ability to PASS the final exams) there is something else that’s been on
my mind for over a year and a half now. Actually, if I’m being precise, since 7
May 2011. If I wanted to go back further, I could go to November 2010. And if I
wanted to go further still, I also could. But before May 7th, it was
happy times. And I would give anything to be able to go back to before that
day. Just one more day. I would do anything to fall back under the illusion
that he still cares about me.
I sometimes wonder where he is, and what he’s doing at the
moment when he runs across my mind. I wonder what would happen if I were to see
him in the streets. I used to dream of us walking the streets together, but now
I find myself hoping that I never have to see him again. And yet I scan the
crowds for his face, having not the slightest clue what I would actually do if
I did spot him.
The fucker made me fall for him. He saw things in a way that
made me rethink my view of the world. He said things that inspired me to write
poetry and songs. He made me feel like I was capable of being someone special.
He made me feel extraordinary. He made me feel loved.
He made me happy. He would ask me how my day was, and would
actually WANT to hear an answer. He cared when I was upset and would actually
try to make me feel better. We would have 3 hour long phone conversations and
text each other until heaven knows what time in the morning. And then it
stopped. He left.
I was by no means his fault, though he was no saint. He
could also drive me frikken crazy sometimes with his moods. We both know that
it was me. I was the one who screwed up, and I probably have no right to feel
like the victim. I’m not going to get into what I did, though you probably
don’t care. I mean, it’s not like anyone is actually reading this, but still.
It would hurt him and me to talk about it. All you need to know is I hurt him.
Badly. Then he left. Without a warning, without a good-bye, without one last
frikken conversation or phone call, or “I love you,” he left.
I understand why he did, though. It would've hurt too much
to say good-bye. And I can’t hold it against him. He just wanted to avoid being
hurt again.
I've often wondered if I miss HIM, or if I just miss the way
he made me feel. I actually don’t know. I’m still struggling to find the line
that divides the 2. But I think, if I’m being brutally honest, I’m too scared
to let him go, because I’m scared no one will ever make me feel the way he did.
I’m frikken terrified that I’ll never find another. I’m actually one of those
people that still believe in true, honest, ever-lasting love. Call me cliché,
call me a hopeless romantic, call me whatever you want. I don’t care. It’s not
like anyone is reading this.
I like to delude myself that he sometimes thinks of me too.
I like to think that, no matter how much he says he hates me, when he’s alone
or when he’s lying on bed at night, when he doesn't have to pretend for anyone,
that he thinks of me. That he misses our conversations as much as I do. That he
still cares, somewhere deep down.
I know my logic and way of thinking is flawed. I know that
I’m irrational, that I’m incredibly weird, and maybe completely frikken screwed
up in the head. But that’s it. That’s what’s been going on inside my head for
the past year. Sorry to have wasted your time, but, in all honesty, if you just
read all that shit, you must have been pretty bored to begin with. Anyway. It’s
time for me to go now.
“Good night and joy be with you all.”
