how the end always is...

This is the longest I've been in the same position ever in my life. It's been over two years of general stability even as all sorts of weird interludes have taken place. I have held down a job for three years and counting, I have had the same roommate for almost two, and I've found that the roots I've put down are becoming more firm, and spreading out.

I haven't been still long enough in the same place to get a feel for how things really are, to see the dynamics, the balances of power, the intricacies of human nature play out. I'll probably be working here for another decade or two if the bottom doesn't totally drop out and I wonder what will change as people retire, as others jockey for position, as the inevitable changes occur and I need to learn how to deal and interact with those who think so incredibly different from me.

And then there's the whole business of careening wildly towards the end of the 20s ever closer to the 30s feeling maybe a little older and wiser but not enough to really feel like anything's figured out.I am still more or less the way I've always been, uninterested in "moving up" or romantic games, more inclined to spend my cash on late night coffee and art supplies, still in college student mode, living on rice and beans, getting excited about free food and still using milk crates as chairs and storage.

I'm still preferring platonic friendships that ultimately go nowhere to dating, still liking small gatherings better than large crowds, still intimidated by the beautiful ones, by the ones who put a lot of energy into projecting a certain image. Too oddball for most, and too square for the rest, comfortable yet always wondering when the chair will get pulled out from underneath.

It used to be that when things got rough, I waited it out, because I knew it'd be all over in a few months, that it had a set date of termination. Awkward high school experiences? Crazy roommates? Temporary jobs? I could leave and start all over again and again.

And it gets harder to do that, and harder still to see how things change. How it gets so awkward when your friends fall out of love and want you to pick up the pieces, those who were once in my life want to start over and rebound and you know too much about how they are to do that, how familiarity may not breed contempt but occasionally bring out frustration and long-repressed feelings.

And I fear loss more and more because it seems more real. I know we're not all going to be around forever. In the meantime, I'm afraid of ruining the beauty that's been evident around me. Afraid I'll say the wrong thing, make some mistake that's unforgivable because the concept of forgiveness is still new to me. It's not something I'm used to, and sometimes I wonder what the limit is.

It's so easy to tear down in moments what years took to build up. Disintegration and entropy, order to disorder, and I become more and more conscious of how fragile we are, and how imminent mortality is, and how transient our lives and emotions are. I've never had my heart broken, but it's bled too many times to count.



"So it's all come back round to breaking apart again
Breaking apart like I'm made up of glass again
Making it up behind my back again
Holding my breath for the fear of sleep again
Holding it up behind my head again
Cut in deep to the heart of the bone again
Round and round and round
And it's coming apart again
Over and over and over..."