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[Feel Dump]
8 years ago
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬☢▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ Alright, so... I think I'm gonna get a little personal, a little real, a little... Feely here. It's been awhile since I mentioned it, and I wanna talk about it: Relationships and me, specifically long-term ones where you actually think you're in love and all that crap. I've been thinking about it with a little more frequency lately (much to my annoyance), and honestly, I'm sick of having feelings about it.
Some of you know that I used to have a long-distance, long-term significant other. He was my best friend, my confidant, the missing link, all that jazz. He was everything to me except for physically there. By the time I realized that I didn't love him anymore, we had been (more or less) together for three, going on four, years. I'm not a long-term commitment person when it comes to other people. Longest relationship I have ever been in has lasted a month, or ten days spanned over the course of a few months. I'm not really good at trying, or keeping contact with other people. I'd downright awful at maintaining friendships (which is something I've been getting better at lately, but I still struggle like a fish out of water), and even worse at keeping interest in a person "romantically" (crushes feel like they don't count as a romantic feeling anymore) for more than a week or as soon as this horrible case of shallowness kicks in where I can't seem to look past my perceptive partner's looks or certain behaviors that drive me nutty because they make me cringe when I know I sure as hell do those exact same things or things very similar to the behavior that is making me wince and keeping me from being wholeheartedly attracted to this person. I.E. Four years is a big fucking deal, okay.
This shit's gonna be all over the place, bear with me here. I don't think I really, like "loved" anyone outside of obligatory familial love before. I've had crushes and instantaneous attraction at first sight before, I've had a one night stand or two, I remember all the names of all (three) of my previous boyfriends (as well as my much-more-than-three sexual partners), but maybe that's because I'm secretly a sentimental sadsack who tends to like catalog memories and shove them into a mental scrapbook to make me all weepy later when shit (inevitably) hits the fan. I am sure of one thing, though. I loved Matt. I loved him to bits. We had great times, he was a super supportive friend when I was in treatment, and he was passionate about what he loved doing, and I always looked forward to his Skype calls that would last anywhere between three and eighteen hours. He was the perfect combination of "a nice guy" and an independent person with their own life and interests and stuff. I'm sad I could never be a part of all of that in person - if only for a minute, just to bask in that wonderfully awkward feeling that is meeting someone from the IN-TER-NET and finding that they are, still, in fact, your soulmate - due to the distance, personal complications, and the fact I was too emotionally immature and shitty and lazy to find a fucking job in which to make money in which to go to Australia to see him.
Thanks to him, I know what it's like to fall in love, be in love, and fall out of love. He went through some personal issues (which I won't disclose here, they're pretty personal to him), and I realized that he'd changed. Not in a bad way, but not in the way I would imagine. It was all of a sudden, but still oh-so-gradual. It kicked my fucking ass when I came to that realization and decided to call it quits. It still kicks my ass that I was the one to break up with him. It makes me all sad and shit whenever I think about him because we no longer talk anymore. We haven't since that last conversation. I don't know if he even still wants to talk to me, and visa versa. I feel like hormones and sentiment are clouding my better judgement with all that, so I keep my distance, like I always do. I don't look at anything pertaining or relating to him, and for the most part, he was pretty easy to remove from my life altogether. Nothing but memories in the form of magazine clippings in my mental scrapbook. Bah, I'm talking in circles.
I feel like the above paragraphs explain so much and so little about the way I am, the reason I don't want to be in any sort of commitment, the logic behind why I refuse anything long-distance unless it's obtainable... I appreciate my person, I really do, but I don't know if I'll every love him the way that he adores and dotes on me. Some days I feel like a right ass, like I'm stringing him along for a ride that ends with his feelings crushed under an apathetic boot heel because of my inability to feel anything deeper when I'm not a hot, hormonal, squishy-pantsed mess like I am now.
It's been five fucking years, but I've now built so many defense mechanisms that distance me from people that want to be more than friends. I still want to keep those walls intact, and keep my electrified, barbed-wire fences raised, for some reason or another. I don't know why.
I've found, however, that having a group of friends, no matter how big or small, is just what I needed to fill the lonely hole in my "metaphorical" chest and make me feel happy and content and excited to continue living life and doing things. I've found things to be passionate about, which improves the quality of my life. I've burrowed deeper into a trash fandom with trash people who acknowledge my very own trashiness, and it's a liberating feeling. I love being a furry - there are some times when the fandom isn't as awesome as it could be, and some instances where I walk into a chatroom and realize it's a faggoty hugbox where the word dyke is banned - but for the most part, I've never found a place that fit me in with such a wide assortment of people perfectly before like this. It makes me excited for conventions, it makes me excited for planning things with my furry friends, it keeps me from feeling discouraged when I go out suiting and someone screams from their truck "what the fuck are you wearing". The fandom has also helped me break down those walls that my teenage years had built up all around me with an unspoken "no touching" rule. I really appreciate all of the non-creepy, platonic hugs I get, as well as all the other sorts of platonic, non-creepy touches I get. It's great, and I don't feel as emotionally isolated anymore.
As for life in the here and now: I have a goal of becoming popular/well-known in the fandom. I'm probably going to do it the hardest way possible and try to become friends with everyone I meet who I think is super cool or chill or even just has a talent that I admire or would like to have. I don't want to be one of those popufurs who forget that it was their friends who helped then step up and become well known, or one of those artists who fuck people out of things all the time and get away with it because of their status. Nothing like that. Never like that. I'm too honest - even if my honesty is like sand. Coarse. Abrasive. Irritating.
I'll be moving to Washington at the end of August. I'm both excited and nervous about it. I've never really lived in a big city, nor have I had any good experiences with roommates, but I'm willing to give all of this a try. I've got to learn how to be an independent, functioning adult, dammit. I hope to make some more friends between then and now, and do as much fun stuff as my body and schedule will allow with all the cool people I meet.
Okay, time to cut this off because I've got to go to bed sometime tonight instead of ranting in circles about life and love and all of that touchy-feely contradictory bullshit.
End feels-dump. Resume robotic affect.
Some of you know that I used to have a long-distance, long-term significant other. He was my best friend, my confidant, the missing link, all that jazz. He was everything to me except for physically there. By the time I realized that I didn't love him anymore, we had been (more or less) together for three, going on four, years. I'm not a long-term commitment person when it comes to other people. Longest relationship I have ever been in has lasted a month, or ten days spanned over the course of a few months. I'm not really good at trying, or keeping contact with other people. I'd downright awful at maintaining friendships (which is something I've been getting better at lately, but I still struggle like a fish out of water), and even worse at keeping interest in a person "romantically" (crushes feel like they don't count as a romantic feeling anymore) for more than a week or as soon as this horrible case of shallowness kicks in where I can't seem to look past my perceptive partner's looks or certain behaviors that drive me nutty because they make me cringe when I know I sure as hell do those exact same things or things very similar to the behavior that is making me wince and keeping me from being wholeheartedly attracted to this person. I.E. Four years is a big fucking deal, okay.
This shit's gonna be all over the place, bear with me here. I don't think I really, like "loved" anyone outside of obligatory familial love before. I've had crushes and instantaneous attraction at first sight before, I've had a one night stand or two, I remember all the names of all (three) of my previous boyfriends (as well as my much-more-than-three sexual partners), but maybe that's because I'm secretly a sentimental sadsack who tends to like catalog memories and shove them into a mental scrapbook to make me all weepy later when shit (inevitably) hits the fan. I am sure of one thing, though. I loved Matt. I loved him to bits. We had great times, he was a super supportive friend when I was in treatment, and he was passionate about what he loved doing, and I always looked forward to his Skype calls that would last anywhere between three and eighteen hours. He was the perfect combination of "a nice guy" and an independent person with their own life and interests and stuff. I'm sad I could never be a part of all of that in person - if only for a minute, just to bask in that wonderfully awkward feeling that is meeting someone from the IN-TER-NET and finding that they are, still, in fact, your soulmate - due to the distance, personal complications, and the fact I was too emotionally immature and shitty and lazy to find a fucking job in which to make money in which to go to Australia to see him.
Thanks to him, I know what it's like to fall in love, be in love, and fall out of love. He went through some personal issues (which I won't disclose here, they're pretty personal to him), and I realized that he'd changed. Not in a bad way, but not in the way I would imagine. It was all of a sudden, but still oh-so-gradual. It kicked my fucking ass when I came to that realization and decided to call it quits. It still kicks my ass that I was the one to break up with him. It makes me all sad and shit whenever I think about him because we no longer talk anymore. We haven't since that last conversation. I don't know if he even still wants to talk to me, and visa versa. I feel like hormones and sentiment are clouding my better judgement with all that, so I keep my distance, like I always do. I don't look at anything pertaining or relating to him, and for the most part, he was pretty easy to remove from my life altogether. Nothing but memories in the form of magazine clippings in my mental scrapbook. Bah, I'm talking in circles.
I feel like the above paragraphs explain so much and so little about the way I am, the reason I don't want to be in any sort of commitment, the logic behind why I refuse anything long-distance unless it's obtainable... I appreciate my person, I really do, but I don't know if I'll every love him the way that he adores and dotes on me. Some days I feel like a right ass, like I'm stringing him along for a ride that ends with his feelings crushed under an apathetic boot heel because of my inability to feel anything deeper when I'm not a hot, hormonal, squishy-pantsed mess like I am now.
It's been five fucking years, but I've now built so many defense mechanisms that distance me from people that want to be more than friends. I still want to keep those walls intact, and keep my electrified, barbed-wire fences raised, for some reason or another. I don't know why.
I've found, however, that having a group of friends, no matter how big or small, is just what I needed to fill the lonely hole in my "metaphorical" chest and make me feel happy and content and excited to continue living life and doing things. I've found things to be passionate about, which improves the quality of my life. I've burrowed deeper into a trash fandom with trash people who acknowledge my very own trashiness, and it's a liberating feeling. I love being a furry - there are some times when the fandom isn't as awesome as it could be, and some instances where I walk into a chatroom and realize it's a faggoty hugbox where the word dyke is banned - but for the most part, I've never found a place that fit me in with such a wide assortment of people perfectly before like this. It makes me excited for conventions, it makes me excited for planning things with my furry friends, it keeps me from feeling discouraged when I go out suiting and someone screams from their truck "what the fuck are you wearing". The fandom has also helped me break down those walls that my teenage years had built up all around me with an unspoken "no touching" rule. I really appreciate all of the non-creepy, platonic hugs I get, as well as all the other sorts of platonic, non-creepy touches I get. It's great, and I don't feel as emotionally isolated anymore.
As for life in the here and now: I have a goal of becoming popular/well-known in the fandom. I'm probably going to do it the hardest way possible and try to become friends with everyone I meet who I think is super cool or chill or even just has a talent that I admire or would like to have. I don't want to be one of those popufurs who forget that it was their friends who helped then step up and become well known, or one of those artists who fuck people out of things all the time and get away with it because of their status. Nothing like that. Never like that. I'm too honest - even if my honesty is like sand. Coarse. Abrasive. Irritating.
I'll be moving to Washington at the end of August. I'm both excited and nervous about it. I've never really lived in a big city, nor have I had any good experiences with roommates, but I'm willing to give all of this a try. I've got to learn how to be an independent, functioning adult, dammit. I hope to make some more friends between then and now, and do as much fun stuff as my body and schedule will allow with all the cool people I meet.
Okay, time to cut this off because I've got to go to bed sometime tonight instead of ranting in circles about life and love and all of that touchy-feely contradictory bullshit.
End feels-dump. Resume robotic affect.
...and I will be seeing you at FL this year as well? c:
Furlandia / FL.
On a more serious note, legitimately happy to hear that things have improved in some form or another, a lot of people have various 'things' that have happened in life, good crap, bad crap. Here's hoping there's more of the good stuff. Good WHISKERLY STUFF
Moar whiskers.
Pls whiskerdad, make the hurting stop.