Been scrolling through my “To You” letter repeatedly and am now halfway through my third John Green book. So, yeah, I guess you can say that although February is almost over, I still can’t get Valentine’s Day off my mind. It’s really not like anything really significant happened on that day or anything but I just can’t stand feeling… weird. I don’t know how I feel. I’m not looking for love, at least, I think I’m not. I’m pretty neutral. Just standing on the bleachers of life, cheering everyone else on basically…
But I’ve been reading my letter over and over and over again. I keep thinking of everything that I’ve written, basically all my hopes and dreams and the things that I’d want to tell my “soulmate” once we meet. Yet, truthfully, after re-reading the letter for the nth time, I realized it wasn’t him I was writing it for. I was writing it for myself.
I really don’t get it. Maybe I’m overthinking things, maybe I’m bitter, maybe Freud was right and I have all these repressed feelings that I wish to express in some socially-acceptable manner, maybe John Green’s existentialist junk is getting to me… maybe I just feel more comfortable talking to a piece of paper or a computer screen more than I do expressing myself to other people.
I keep thinking about Shakespeare and how beautiful his words seem and how I wish my vocabulary were that sophisticated so that when I’d express myself through words, people would be too in awe to even understand what I mean. You know how his lines are often all metaphor-y and “open to interpretation” or whatever? My words are like straight lines. There aren’t really any other ways of interpreting them, unless you’re a modern art critic who believes that straight lines are the new spirals. Like, who needs art lessons when you can just slab paint on a canvas and call it modern art?
Anyway, I’ve also been thinking about something that I’m probably not going to share because I’ve said an awful lot already and it’s sort of weird how I’m just opening up on a public site. This something has to do with my weird feelings about Valentine’s Day… yeah. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Whatever. I’ve come to the realization that forgiving others isn’t all that hard…
… but forgiving yourself, that’s the challenge.