, , , , , , , , ,

Title from: “Circles” by Soul Coughing

There are days that I wish I knew more about physics—about how things work, about reciprocity, about time and the human mind and condition. I wish I knew why things work and how they move into cycles and why we choose to define ourselves through cycles because that only means: we never reach our end goal. Our end goal was just our own beginning.

An ex, although I cannot call him that really—someone who I had gone out on several dates with when I moved to Wisconsin came back into my life. For a moment I was happy. I had gotten out of a bad break up at the beginning of summer and had been feeling very vulnerable because of work. Because of family. Because I wasn’t good enough for any of these.

Last night, I got a call from another ex, who I cannot really call him that because he refused to actually say that we were dating, despite the fact for years we had gone through all the motions. This ex, this ex who is still damaged despite the fact he led me to believe otherwise, had his car towed and was asking me for help—from over 2000 miles away. The call was the only thing that connected us, and even then that was cutting in and out—a frayed rope. We hadn’t talked in a long while, he still asking about job interviews that happened months ago, I surprised that he broke up with someone because I didn’t know he had been dating at all.

I found myself getting into a state of melancholy. Of sadness. I find a peace there. You never see movies start out with anything bad happening to the miserable characters. There’s a danger in happiness. Once you’re happy, that means you can lose everything, that devastation is just beyond the line of sight, but still coming. Once you’re happy, it means that you’ll be miserable soon.

After hanging up with the 2000 mile away ex, I realized that in the time I’ve moved to Wisconsin, I’ve begun and ended a cycle. I’m at the same place where I was when I first moved here. I asked the ex, the one who came back into my life where he lived to meet him for our date—since it had been 4 years. He still lived in the same place. He said he hadn’t moved. In fact he said, “I’m still here.”

And I just thought—so am I.