Before I get into the main part of this post, I just wanted to say that if you haven't checked out Kacie Kinzer's tweenbots project for the ITP program at Tisch, you are missing out on something extremely unique. And if you happen to live in that area, keep an eye out for it.
At the age of 25, one would hope to have a certain degree of maturity, at least compared to a few years ago.
Let me just say that 22 had potential to be a great year. The set-up was there. It was the end of college, a summer in an area that was a plane ride away from home, and I was basically moving into the world on my own. I had my friends and people that I cared about, but there was a sort of clean slate feeling. My days at MCLA were now behind me and there was no telling what would happen next. Ideas perhaps, but nothing was certain. It turned out to be not so great.
I don't know what is making me think of that time either. Something just came into my head earlier in the evening and it made me have sort of a revelation about growing older and taking responsibility for one's life. I really don't want to make this extremely personal, but I have a feeling there is little ways around that.
Probably the biggest events that happened in my life during that year happened in Ohio. Ohio turned out to be a very big, emotional growth. It was a development so big that you might even think that I enjoy reflecting on it, but I really don't. I'd like to, but it's seldom positive.
For some reason, one of the biggest things that sticks with me from that time was the fact that I gotten the drunkest I had ever been in my life. It sounds stupid, but it's one of those events in a person's life that is sort of fun to remember. I was at a bar in Tuscarawas County where they served Long Island Ice Tea that was both very strong and very cheap. I didn't have more than one, but I did have some beer after. I was basically in the clouds. I'm certain I was having a great time, yet for some reason I kept apologizing to people for being intoxicated. Why was I sorry? Everyone was getting wasted and they were not sorry. When I got back home, I was literally brought into my room and told to go to bed. That doesn't happen frequently to a 22 year old, not even by parents. But here I was, being told to go to bed. About five minutes later, after getting into pajamas, my restless self went next door. Why the hell should I go to be anyway. Pretty soon after, I found my energy just crashing and a great need to use the bathroom. I didn't get sick, thankfully, but I felt like I was going to fall asleep. By the time I mustered the strength to get out of the bathroom, I only made it to the kitchen, literally telling myself "break time". But soon after I went to bed.
Again, the one thing that sticks with me there is wondering why I was sorry. I guess it comes down to who I was saying it to. I had met a girl in Ohio. We didn't go out "officially", but whatever we were doing was a close second. We liked each other a lot at the time and, despite the fact that I should have known better, I thought I was falling in love with her. I say thought because now I know that I wasn't. I didn't get what love was at the time. What 22 year old really would? People that age and younger might think I am wrong and are fully capable of knowing love, which might be true. Someone younger may indeed be capable, but being capable isn't enough. Because I can promise you that by 22 you don't know the opposite of love yet, which in this case is heartbreak. When I left Ohio, and when I left this girl, I was extremely upset. Me being upset got her upset. The result is running on three years of not a single word spoken. The saddest part about that is I'm sure we are both fine with that. Probably more than fine.
No one really likes to admit that they hate someone. How can you? What kind of person are you to completely want to shut another person out? It's revolting. The idea of denying the existence of someone just as worthy as yourself is mind boggling. But it happens anyway. People hate one another. I'd like to think people love more people than they hate, or at least I am hopeful that is the case. Unfortunately, despite three years, I think I might hate this person when I should be feeling a lot of other things. I should be feeling thankful for making me go through all that and know what is true. I should just be done with it. I'm way past what I thought was the love, why not the hate?
Again, I don't know what made me think of this person again, or even this time in my life. But rather than just thinking back and wanting to shake it off, I thought of why I haven't stopped hating. I thought about why I haven't really finished growing up after three years, at a time where I should perhaps be older than I am. I've wondered in my head if this person and I still talked. If we were able to just drop a hello once in a while and ask each other about the people who surround us today. Why don't we ask each other who has our hearts? Instead, I wonder why the bridge is not just burnt but still on fire. I thought I became the better person out of all this, and now I'm convinced that I am not.
For anyone reading this, take my advice and don't get into a situation like this. We all need to start being thankful for who we are and for the people in our lives that make living great and meaningful. While we might have been slightly shaped from hatred, we can keep the shape and drop the emotion. I wonder if I've held on to the emotion for too long and now I have to keep it, like a scar. If you are able to shake it, do it. Shake it off any way you can. Run, jump, dance, just do something. Save your emotion for the better things and then offer it to the people who deserve it.