Nostalgia 101

The internet has made it so much easier to torture yourself.. but I'll get back to that point later.

So, I just moved.. and I've gotten sick of stacked tupperware containers full of stuff. Today I decided to go through some of it.. to see what I wanted to decorate with, and what could go back into storage.

My last move.. was abrupt. I had a little less than 4 hours to move every object out of my apartment and into a truck and a van.. with no prior packing. This meant my mom, dad, cousin, and I ran in and just started throwing things into boxes.. the only things that got wrapped somewhat carefully were my dishes and glassware. Everything else was just scattered into whatever containers we had.

So, to get to the point.. I found a lot of old photos.. and an old box with the most amazing incense sort of scent.. with a necklace in it.. with a note. It's amazing the things that come rushing back with just a smell. They say smell is the strongest of the senses when it comes to triggering memory. I believe it. I could smell my life back in 2005.. but this time, I wasn't smelling the hatred, the heartache, the week without eating, the betrayal.. I was smelling how happy I was at one point. It's hard to remember those times.. and while I'm no where in love with Ryan anymore, it was nice to remember how alive I felt, not because I was so incredibly sad, but when I was so incredibly in love. I've only felt that twice.. the so happy, and so in love part.. otherwise, the heartache usually trumps it all. Most people feel most alive when they're hurting inside.. and I agree. I always have.. but there are 2 times I've been so happy in love that I felt unstoppable.. until it all went wrong.. and both, ruined in some way or another by the internet.

I went through the notes, looked at the pictures.. some of the little knick knacks I had at my old place.. things that made me smile and clutch it to my chest for just a moment with a bit of a nostalgic, hopeless romantic sigh.. and then I put most of it back in it's storage spot so I could rediscover it again a bit down the line and sigh all over again.

Fast forward through my night. I'd tried not to get my hopes up about plans that were loosely discussed yesterday. I just knew that I'd get blown off.. some things never change.. but alas, I sat here, disappointed. My roommates weren't up for going out tonight (since they go out most other nights.. except.. I was off tonight for a change, and nothing panned out).. and I kind of came up with nothing to do. There's no one I really much wanted to see with the exception of one, and I knew from the moment the loose and never solidified plans were put on the table that they would never come to fruition.

Back to the part about the internet allowing immediate torture. Women.. we all do it, all the time. When we're hurting, or missing, or wanting.. we torture ourselves even more with memories. We seek out reasons to make ourselves even more pathetic and sad.. and thus, I went through some more old pictures.. not many, mind you. I don't have my external drive at the new place, and I had to get them off my computer in fear of my last ex setting my computer on fire if he discovered I'd kept them.. but the few I could find, on the internet.. there was this warm and sort of tingly feeling that went from my inner thighs, and straight up through my chest and to my head. It could have been sexual, who knows.. but I think it was more of a deep absorption of the images.. a deep meditation into these old memories.. remembering every single detail of those moments.. and some of the things that were said or done.. it's amazing how a photo can bring back as much as an entire chapter of your life, or as minute as the way their lips felt against yours when you went in for a small peck on the lips, and they drunkenly grabbed your entire face and made out with you across a table. These are the memories that men never remember.. these are the memories that only us women hold on to.. the gestures, the glances.. the words, the moments when you could actually see the love in their eyes, the moments when they didn't say I love you, but the twinkle in their eye, and the slightly trembling of their lips made it clear. Being a woman allows for those extra memories. It's a blessing, and it's a curse.. depending on where you stand with the person when you recall upon the memory.

I never thought someone could disappoint me so many times, and for so long. Love creates denial. It creates the idea that people will change, "It was just this once, this second time, this 93rd time.." love causes us to create an excuse for them each and every time they break our hearts. Whether it be with cruel words, a cold shoulder, or a knock down the priority ladder.. somehow, when we're in love, we always create excuses for why they don't seem to care.

My question.. for myself.. is how many years does it take to learn a lesson? How many failed attempts will it take to get angry.. for good? I don't know if I'll ever have the strength to let go, and that scares the hell out of me. The worst part is that the idea that "one sided love is obsession" was pounded into my head by this very same person.. and now I just feel psychotic. I know that's not right.. it's possible to be in love with someone and they don't return it.. but I don't think it's obsession.. or is it? I can't quite decide now that I type it out. Is he right? Am I obsessed? I hate to think of it that way, because it's made me fear falling in love.. I just don't understand.. there are a few very handsome and sweet guys that I completely blow off without a second thought, because all I want is the one who doesn't want me. I feel like that's all people ever want.. the unobtainable.

I suppose I should stop going on and on about this.. It's so childish at this point.. to be stuck in this loop..

As a side note.. I still wonder who reads this.. and if they even read the entire thing. Well, whatever. I can feel myself getting overtired.. so I guess it's time to call this quits.

Tomorrow is a new day.. but this isn't over. It's never over.