January 30, 2006

Who we aren't, remix.

So here's the thing. I had planned to come back to this piece eventually, but its been more than a year. I never really liked how it flowed, and parts only really made sense to me due to their personal nature. So I basically edited and reconfigured it. If you want, I'd like to know what you think, mainly which one you like better, and why. The link to the original is http://blog.kordix.com/thinkingoutloud/archives/2004_10.html
Here's the new one-


On occasion, as I'm riding the bus home from class at night, I catch a glimpse of myself in the darkened window. The person sitting there always surprises me to a certain extent. I have my headphones on, and there is this constant hollow quality to my eyes. When I see myself looking like that the thought often crosses my mind; "this isn't the person I was supposed to be". Its an odd thought. Its not one that really expresses regrets, but rather surprise that this is where I've ended up. There is this nagging feeling that I was supposed to be someone else, someone happier, and full of joy.
Perhaps I've read too many science fiction books, but I can almost imagine that at some point in my life I made one decision, and from there my life took two different paths. In that other world is the person I am supposed to be, the one who sees and feels all the joy in the world, who sits on the bus smiling to herself as she rides home. The person I was supposed to be.
I am that person sometimes, though. There are days when I do see hope and joy and can hardly contain the relief I feel to be alive and here. I think that those days and moments are the ones that bring me the most grief. To know that that person could be real, that she exists somewhere taunts me.
One of the more bizarre notions I also come across in considering who I should have been is the fact that that person even seems to have her own name. At this point some of you may back off and suggest I am delving into a multiple personality disorder. I assure you I am not, and just stick with this for another minute or so. Growing up and even now, my family and closest friends called me by a nickname. It was a name I would not allow someone to call me unless I deemed them worthy. When an newer friend found out what my best friend called me she laughed and stated wow, you just do not seem like that at all. It saddened me to realize that that part of me might be gone. Slowly the person I should have been has begun to fade.
I have further experienced with this problem with a friend of mine. To state matters in the simplest way I can, we both fell in love with the person the other should have been, a rather confusing notion. Specifically, how do you tell someone you've fallen in love with the person they were supposed to be? You then become even crazier than they already think you are. Especially if they believe themselves to be happy with the way they are and the way they treat you. Time travel might be an easier concept than all of this. And it continues to get more complicated. The person I am is the one who needs who he was supposed the be. And vice versa. He likes me when I'm happy and can counteract his own pain, yet I need him to be happy and counteract my pain. But it is due to his ability to feel that pain that we understand what the other person is going through. I think that's how this all became so twisted.
And eventually we have become increasingly frustrated with one another. The glimpses of who each person should have been become fewer and fewer. With that type of thinking everything becomes a spiral downwards. One person reacts to the loss of who the other should have been, and in turn the other person reacts negatively. One day you finally start to ask if its worth the pain anymore. At first that concept is instantly rejected in your mind. After everything you've been through together throwing it all away seems ridiculous. But like most things in life once doubt has entered in, there's really no going back.
A secondary problem I often find in all of this is the concept of unconditional love. How can I know that I loved the person he should have been if that ceases to be the definition of love? It is a classic catch-22. My love for him was obviously not unconditional, yet it was unconditional for the person he should have been.
Some part of me wants to believe in reincarnation. And parallel universes. I hope in that other universe, or in my next life I meet him again. And next time, we will meet before the world has broken some part of us. Together we can be the people we are supposed to be. That hope is what makes abandoning him in this world bearable. In this world we hurt each other too much. But the people we are supposed to be, they would have been perfect together.
That almost makes it sounds like I regret knowing him. I don't, though, and I don't regret the person that I am. Circumstances are the leading force in who people are, and I don't think I could have survived my circumstances not being the person I am today. But the person I am today has difficulties letting go of someone who made me see so clearly who I was supposed to be. And by giving up on him I realize I'm giving up on the person I should have been.

Posted by allison at 6:26 PM | Comments (2)