indiboi.com

There’s some irony, perhaps, that tomorrow I have an old love arriving to, while another is leaving from, New York.

Arrival, it reminds me of the great and uncontainable joy once experienced, that makes me happy, remembering feeling so in love. I’m very happy for him, which sounds so trite, it isn’t though, really. I was going to mention something to him about it, but we rarely speak, and really it isn’t necessary. He’s happy, I like that.

I’ve decided that I truly enjoy being alone. I cherish the quiet and the freedom. While the company of another on occasion is nice, it is by no means necessary or particularly desired, and especially not needed. There is a balance that just cannot be struck easily, and until I find that beacon that says “this is just right” in the very beginning, I don’t particularly see a reason to bother at all. I will certainly forget that little detail, but I’m too picky about everything, and given enough time, I’ll find enough about someone that promotes feelings of disgust. It certainly isn’t the fault of the other, it’s me that needs more and more perfection; unrealistic perfection. It is time to be brutal, when I feel like bothering at all, that is, when I’ve forgotten that I don’t want to bother.

The whole point of this business is that… because I’m remembering how amazing I felt so very long ago, and how nobody has really ever come close to that since, well… I need that feeling again, or at least some similar enough. Now, I suppose I’m not being completely fair when I say no one has even come close, because that isn’t true. It’s just… a quick burst of infatuation, narcotic as it may be, doesn’t really, honestly, count. It especially doesn’t count when I’m being completely delusional, while, though rare, did happen once in recent memory.

I want to proclaim from the rooftop how much I love someone… That doesn’t happen in six months, it just can’t, unfortunately I can’t seem to make it past the sixth or so month without wanting to go into witness protection. It doesn’t matter though, because while it is completely contrary to socialization, I’m happy with just myself.

Well, not exactly just myself, I do have Clyde.

Clyde is a fish, btw, a Betta to be precise.