Friday, January 11, 2013

My Life The Indie Movie

I wish my life were an indie movie. Where all the girls wear glasses with turned up frames and wear yellow polka dot dresses with boots and the boys wear suspenders and court you with flowers with unique names. Where the girl has commitment issues and the boy has mother issues but they listen to the soundtrack from Moonrise Kingdom and have matching fox broaches and everything is alright because they have each other. Where even if they are in a long distance relationship they send each other long romantic handwritten letters sealed with wax and draw each other comics of them hanging out together. Where everything is quirky and beautiful for being tragically messed up and somehow that makes it hurt less.

But I think the truth is that you can add all the little whimsical elements. I can sew felt animals with button eyes and bake saccharinely fluffy treats with rainbow sprinkles, and wear bow ties and pretend I live in a pastel colored fantasy land.

But those messed up parts? Where your ex boyfriend who you were together with for 6 years and then fell out of love with for no reason. He asks for you back. And it hurts because you want him to be happy because it's your fault that he's so messed up but you can't give him what he wants. Where you finish college with the most impractical degree imaginable and you don't know how to start being an adult and everyone is expecting you to do great things. Where you finished school earlier than all your friends and moved home to a place where no one lives anymore. Isolating yourself from the people you need in your life in order to stop feeling lonely, stop feeling useless, stop feeling like you have something or someone to look forward to.

Those messed up parts. Those don't stop hurting just because you're wearing purple tights or because you baked banana bread. They continue to hurt and eat you alive because there isn't any easy way to fix them in your little pastel fantasy land where your mind prefers to be. Seriously, life is a bitch. She doesn't give you the easy button to push and she doesn't make your ex boyfriend stop loving you so you can break up with him without the pain or hurt stinging you. She doesn't let you like someone who is nearby. Oh no, she makes you get boy crazy over a guy who is literally on the OTHER SIDE OF THE COUNTRY.

So. No. Those messed up parts. They can't be fixed by frilly skirts and handmade felt animals. But if I stop doing those things. If I stop giving myself reasons that life is whimsical and weird. If I stop laughing at stupid sexual puns and calling my mom my drinking buddy. If I stop writing songs on mandolin and baking german chocolate cakes. Then those messed up parts will. actually. eat. me. alive. And we can't have that. So I'm going to pretend that my life is an indie movie. Because it's all I can do to keep moving forward towards whatever it is I'm moving forward towards. I'll find out someday I guess because the life I'm living can't not change. She does like to throw little surprises at you. And time heals all wounds, right?

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