Well. Here we go again. I'm so sick and tired of this. Every single time it's the same exact thing. It's like this part of my life is the ultimate rerun - and not in a good way. It's so overdone. It's been seen so many times now that it's not even half-way decent. They should just cancel this episode altogether. Enough is enough.
So I know this. And I tell myself this. But nothing seems to change. It's like I'm waiting for someone to make the change for me, all the while knowing full well that only I can make this change for myself. It's my life.
And that's just it. It is my life. And I only get this one shot. So why not take a risk now and then? Why not be a little impulsive, a little spontaneous? We only live once.
On the other hand, I only get this one shot. And it is my life. How can I handle my one chance at living, something so precious and fragile, in such a way that there is always the threat of disaster hanging overhead? I can barely hang onto my own two feet, let alone a rocky cliffside. I cannot stand even the idea of putting myself in a position where I do not have complete control, or at least the illusion of it. I like safe things. I've built my world around them, and other people have built my world around them. No one puts children in an unpadded playground anymore.
I like the world that I know. Academics, to start with, are safe for me. There is a clear path to the finish line, I can see exactly how many people will be around to see me cross the finish line, and I can see how far away it is. I know where it ends. It's not unknown. Academics, even in their rigidity and structure, are like cushions to me. The same goes for my family, and the easy connection of female relationships. I've never been able to feel as unthreatened as I do when I'm with my girlfriends. It's melodious - I know that type of body and mind. It's me. Nothing there is unknown either.
Boys, however, are a different story. I don't know that body or mind. I've been told that they're fun and funny and cute and blah blah blah. And occasionally I have found this to be true for myself. I like boys, don't get me wrong. They are indeed fun and funny and cute and blah blah blah. . They're just harder than what I know. I'm good until things begin to steer in a weird direction. I'm used to steering myself. I'm the driver, and I'm damn good at it too. But suddenly, when they want to steer, I can't help but hesitate - and in some cases refuse altogether.
I don't know what to say when they want to get closer. I don't know how to react to their probing questions and declarations - no matter how minor they may be. You want to go to the park with a bunch of friends? Sure. No problem. A bike ride? Of course! I can control my own bike. But a picnic? Just us two? Maybe, maybe not. And a one-on-one, romantic, unplanned date at the lake, where I've been whisked off to, and where we spend the whole day laughing and talking and floating, watching the sun set on the horizon? Absolutely not. That is way too far out of my comfort zone. I don't like lakes. Too closed in. I like the ocean. It's way more spread out, and there are seagulls and rocks and little pools of sea creatures and walks we can take. So many easy distractions are available there. Life's handy tools, just lying around, waiting for me to use them. But the lake is different. It's too much like a Nicholas Sparks novel. And even though I love those stories, there's a big difference between reading them - when they concern other, fictional characters - and becoming them. Once they begin to merge with my everyday life, once I become the female protagonist, there's too much closeness. Too many personal boundaries that threaten to be pushed. Too much on the line. Too much of a chance that I may get hurt. It's cold out there. I like my warm cushions.
I can handle the nevers. I can handle the almosts. I can handle the maybes. And even though I really want what lies beyond all that, I cannot seem to handle anything past it. Once I step over those lines, the clear, lighted pathway to the finish line disappears. I'm just alone on that cliff again, at night. And -- Oh my god, was that a coyote I just heard howling?! One more step, and it could mean I'd fall to my death. If I don't move, that coyote will find me at some point.
But what's worse? What's easier to handle in reality? Is there any real difference? Maybe I'll just stick to my cushions... I can handle the maybes.
