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April 3rd, 2023

The following post is awfully cynical:

I'm starting to fall back into the bad habits. The drugs, porn, sex -- all the addictions that numb my brain just enough to skip the mornings where I’d normally have to use it. Kevin once described me as “a kid who likes to think.” I used to pride myself on that; focusing on discovering death and the like. Seeking to grant respite from the depression by figuring out what the hell is going on.

Yeah, I was stupid. Hell, every time I look back on my past self I describe him as such. He was worse. Yet, for some reason, I miss him.

I’m thinking of giving up on things. My friends, foremost. I look back on my moving and how easy it was to let go. And how much holding on has hurt me. In Virginia, I only really lived a happy life when I was willing to abandon my friends in California. In Hong Kong, I navigated through three different friend groups before settling on the few people who made me happy. Broke up with a perfectly nice girl because I didn’t want to stop moving. I’m better off as a result, but those were people, right? Those were people who cared about me.

I want to make this seem like I’m mourning them and that they actually do still mean something to me. But I’m not, and they don’t. I just miss the era -- when growing up was my top priority. I feel like I haven’t done that in a while.

I’m annoyed with my life and what my relationships are doing to me. I’m bored, sure, but I’m also helpless. Because maturity means restraint. It means when you’re mad, shattered, and falling apart, you take responsibility for it. You don’t deny it, but you handle it. So, as I lose my love out of a gaping wound and I try to fight that creeping draw towards inebriation, I sit back and watch as other people live life better. When I do lose myself in ways that insult others, that doesn’t matter. Hurting people isn’t excusable no matter what you’re going through. Sure, that’s fair.

Zach, when dealing with much worse, mentioned that there’s no use feeling sorry for yourself. No one’s gonna sit back and think that’s worth your time. But I want to fall apart. I want to get high forever. I wanna let go and start over.

It gets easier the more you do it. Especially when you’re forced to and the silver lining’s all you got. When I was a kid, Mom always mentioned how it would make me braver. That I wouldn’t be afraid to lose people. I guess I’m not. Because I know that no matter how close I am to someone, I can find an often greater “closeness” with someone new. I learned that with my recent ex. Despite the fact that we crashed and burned, I did love her. Yes, I loved her even after I loved once before. I know I'll love again. Probably a lot.

So when I rationalized the breakup and acknowledged just what it would do to me, I kept that in mind. When I let go, I knew I’d be fine. No matter how many whiskey cokes it took. The friends I have and the fights between us mean very little when I’m indifferent towards the outcome of our relationship. I’ve been hated before by people who truly knew me; I was fine. That can happen again; I’ll be fine. Perhaps ironically, I miss being scared of that kind of thing.

Two days ago I was working on my college application much later than I should have. Between essays, I’d gave my brain a rest by scrolling through YouTube or my camera roll and the strangest thought occurred to me. I missed my old girlfriend -- that perfectly nice girl from Hong Kong. I missed her sweetness and her smell. I missed her kindness and her cadence. I never thought I would. It was amazing at first -- believing that my love and my care for others was constant, just hidden. That was the problem though, I wasn't seeing the bigger picture.

The difference between ex-lovers and ex-friends is that I’ve had way more of the latter. Their value depreciates. It’s only a matter of getting older. Because maturity is really just mastery of letting go. Things that you don’t care about can’t bother you. I guess I’m growing up.

I think I'm gonna take some time to miss how I was when everything was so big. To look back on a time when every friend was a friend for life; when every love was ultimate. To mourn the loss of childhood, and to mature.

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