Love, heartbreak, travel, and the hunt for a dream.

The late night calls, the early morning text messages, and the intermittent letters. All of these are reminders from a love I once had. From the person who expected me to become something great. Someone who genuinely sees my potential and who I will one day become. I start to feel the increased heart rate from an origin that I can’t explain. Worry? Anxiety? Sadness? Stress? Hope? Excitement? Love? Anger?

Over the last year I have made those calls. Possibly causing a similar reaction to the ones that I experience. In previous posts I have explained how well I know that it takes 28 seconds to meet this persons voicemail. Over the last year she has also been those calls. I look down at the phone and sometimes make a conscious decision not to answer. I don’t know what to say anymore. I have not added up to the man that I hoped to be. Not yet.

I find myself a heartbroken man still scarred with blind hope. I can’t not call her back. I want to hear her voice. I want to know that she still exists in my heart and I in hers. I want to lead myself on. But what does this do to my psyche?

The only way I can describe the sensation is like a tumultuous ocean. Waves of eager excitement, barbaric anger and topped with a frosting of love, longing, and hope. The conversations are spaced out with lulls that you can only understand after a relationship has ended. That silence that sits like stagnant air in a house that has sat vacant for too long.

When we talk like lovers for a moment I remember why I love this person. In the blink of an eye it returns to formalities and conversations that can’t be opened anymore. I never thought that we would have closed doors between each other. I loved to dance in her mind and slide through her dreams and aspirations like a 5 year old child at his favorite park.

I know that I am searching for my own stability. I know a lot of that stability relies on monetary value. Mostly I am dreaming of a life with a woman. She’s a perfect balance of a crust punk spitting slanderous phrases with crude humor and highly educated woman with an ambition to save the entire planet and it’s inhabitants.

This is all on me now. I’ve given little reason for anyone to want to be with me. I’ve bounced between 3 states and 4 jobs over the last 18 months. Mental breakdowns were like my morning cup of coffee during that time. Inconsistency has been pumping through my veins and I’m surprise I’m still alive.

Learning to be a more supportive person to all that are around me, as well as myself, has been a grueling process because I have never believed in anything. There was this urge to try and find out why that was the case for me. I dived into the dark abyss of my past to dig up what can be learned from it. I looked back so intently in hopes that I may adjust for the future. Presently I am terrified of what needs to be done. Consistency. (Can I tell you again how inconsistent I am? I’m shocked I even keep up with this blog sometimes!)

A long time ago a close friend of mine explained to me why I am practically un-dateable. (No, that is not a real word. I just made it up.) I am a loose cannon and no one knows what to expect from me. Aside from flighty decision making. It was unbearable to me to think that someone could call my next step. In my eyes, what’s the fucking point of that? Ohhh, so your lover doesn’t live in a constant state of stress and anxiety… Well, that makes sense when you put it that way.

I don’t want anyone to know my next move, still. There is an enormous amount of personal responsibility and fear that comes with consistency. Most of all I am worried of becoming a boring jaded old man.

When I am placed in the path to success I simply picture myself becoming mundane and uninspired by my surroundings. Go to point B for this specified amount of time, do a thing that makes you money, then return to point A. Repeat. On some occasions I’ll break the routine and go see site C for a day or two. I guess this is growing up?

This fear is deep rooted in my upbringing. I have never lived anywhere for a long period of time. My parents were just as fickle as me. For some reason I decided to take their same path, but amplify the indecision, inconsistency, and the knack to always be on the move. Luckily they had me because I think I slowed them down!

Because of my blood born wanderlust, I haven’t been able to slow it down. I have forced myself to believe that I cam able to settle. I have this dream that I can live in one place for one year. It’s been 8 years since that has happened.  It’s not without effort though. I find a place to live, I apply to school, take the placement testing, get accepted, accept financial aid, find a full-time job and then leave and drop my classes before I even give myself the chance to succeed. I’m terribly indecisive.

Today I had a terrifying revelation about my habits. I saw a homeless man walking by and all I could think was, “I’m two wrong steps away from where that guy is right now.” The problem with my revelation is that I do not want to slow down. I must learn how to manage my impulses better. Constantly moving can sometimes becomes lonely. Endlessly chasing the idea of a dream. I don’t know what my dream is but I figure travelling can only help me find out where it is. It seems I never made many aspirations and I need to find a few.

I’ll be on the train to California tomorrow night from Rochester, New York. Here’s to the cycle with no pattern!



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