This March, I realized, that I don’t miss you. I miss how I felt about myself, around you.
Anxiety aside, I felt worthy. I felt cool and desirable. As if I had finally scored a role in a teen movie. I had finally caught up to my age. To my peers. To my unlived life. It was a momentary 'fuck-you' to my conscience and my circumstances. I felt as though I had finally made it, or at least, that I could’ve made it. The dichotomy of hope and fear. Hopeful that I would earn you soon, and scared that I would lose you. These desirable people enjoy me — which means I’m finally gonna be one of them. They will finally love me back as much as I love them, and at last — I will be at peace. But I couldn’t be.
You (all) were more or less a distraction from my crippling self-esteem. In between blissful moments, the worry and loathing still crept in with full force. Cracks in the surface, as I convinced myself that you should be enough for me. How could I upkeep an everchanging persona, when I desperately want to start over, every single day? Be better. Be more. Be the best. I tried way too hard. What's funny is that I don't think I liked you as much as I imagined I would, every time we were apart. I was always trying to bring us together in my mind. Push aside others in jealously. But sometimes our time together was a bore. Sometimes I even resented you. But I kept reminding you that I exist, in case you forget about me. I couldn't let you forget.
I’m sorry for always turning you into a symbol of my unlived life. My loss. My yearning. My past. My longing. My unfulfilled love. My self-identity. The idea and memory of you, meant far greater to me than who you truly were/are. None of you ever agreed to hold my expectations. So you aren’t to blame for all that you never became to me. Maybe you’ve all forgotten me. Maybe you’re indifferent, or never cared in the first place. But I’m trying to not hold that against anyone. None of it matters. The goal is to not use others as a source of happiness. Not turn misery into self-identity. I hope I get there. I apologize to everyone involved, especially myself.
(validity of this entire piece is subject to a change in perception aka 'The Curse of March’)
