Let’s take it back to the blog that begun it all with another throwback. 2014 was now 4 years ago – almost 5 as we come into the New Year. Yet I know that the writing I did back then is probably the best i will express myself.
I remember writing this post sitting cross legged beside my bed. I was crying legitimate angry tears because I think he wasn’t replying to my messages or maybe he was away or maybe somebody was trying to give me a reality check (pls know I am laughing a lot writing this) But I remember feeling just so overwhelmed because I has never wanted anybody that much before. But straight after this I slammed my laptop closed and ran up to Tessa’s house and there was something about getting it down on paper that alleviated all of the tension and left me giddy with a self-confidence and this very free happiness. I guess this is what it was like to be truly young. And to want someone you knew couldn’t possibly want you back with a fire you knew was real. And reading it back, and knowing that I got exactly what I wanted, is really just great.
Also I am only two posts away from catching up which considering that i was 15 days behind a few days ago is an end of year miracle in itself.
There are some that say love and anger are the same. Two states of passion that are constantly interchangeable, two emotions that mould to feel like one. These people are right.
You, the last months of high school and the beginning of spring collided with me at the same time.
Together the three of you sparked me with inspiration to change. I shed the skin I had been wearing all winter, cleansing myself of the tears and the ink stained hands and the expectations and fading like denim into a more comfortable person. Tanned skin, lip gloss and cups of tea, music, white wine and late nights. I felt like sunshine.
When I loved you being this person was the most natural thing in the world. It had always been so hard to be smart. I never felt brave enough or beautiful enough or good enough to stand amongst the openly intelligent. In New Zealand where I’m from we are taught modesty from childhood; we grew up swallowing humble pie alongside pavlova every Christmas and all seem to have this innate knowledge that we must be unassuming as to whether or not we are good at things. It’s normal to not be good at things. So to be smart and proactive is different here and it’s hard to find the right mentality. When you are surrounded by bright people in ironed skirts and high heels who speak with elegance and inflection and no embarrassment or apology it is impossible to think highly of yourself. I couldn’t connect with these perfect people, like oil mixing with water I could never enter their flow of thought. Loving you was my excuse to not have to try. I didn’t need intelligence or charisma because I loved you, I was good enough at loving you and that was all I needed to be.
Now I am angry at you. I am so angry. I am angry. I hate you. Or at least I think I do?
All I really know is now being this person is personal. Part of me wants to run and hide back into who I was before, fast forwarding the change I know is coming at the end of summer. When I will move to university and straighten my hair and button up a blazer every day. I will learn to sit up straight and smile a perfect smile even when I am frustrated, even when I am scared. Maybe that would be the best revenge, to take myself from you before I give you anymore, only if I did that I would be taking myself away from me as well. I don’t want to be this person just yet. So instead what I want is to be better at being this part of myself then you are at being you. I want to out do you at your own game.
I want to live this summer. Sun bleached hair and short skirts, red lipstick and sunsets. I want the blasting music and the fruit chewing gum and the feeling of endless possibility. I want to be as chill as the sea breeze as hot as the city concrete on a warm afternoon. Forget sunshine I want to be an inferno; I want to burn you until you feel what I am feeling. I want you to feel this so you can tell what it is that I am feeling. I am so angry with you. Or maybe I am so in love with you.
I can’t tell the difference.