Guilt

There’s nothing like a trip down memory lane to remind you of the good times that has passed and the person you were then. Binge watching episodes of Gilmore Girls is definitely a bus ride down to a familiar small town and thought evoking sentiments from simple everyday conversations. My mind works alike to the non-stop rant and I love the honest scripting.

I am on my semester break and most of my days are arranged in a haphazard manner of meetings with old friends, days helping out in church and lazy days with the family.

Its been so wonderful with the progress I’m making with writing, and I’m actually under the title of ‘writer’ now -within a small organisation like a church as it may seem, its still far from anything I’d hope to be recognized as. Years of secretly blogging and a few opportunities to write in youth and CF blogs, now to contribute as a copywriter for the youth and a part of the media team in church. Ofcourse I’d say yes to every door God opens for me to write. Indefinitely.

But on some incredibly (intentionally so) lazy days, I indulge in forming my day as it goes -around the television. Like today, while the mind-numbing process was so bad -it was so good, I needed it. I needed a little escapism. Yet away from my own life, I was still thinking, but through a different set of lens.

Watching a simple television series about the lives of two girls growing up into adulthood made me think about my own life if I were watching it happen. It made me step back and see my own reactions as they were played out. It resounded so clearly to me. Specifically to the fact that I’m losing my own head as though being wrapped like bacon around the asparagus of an idea of a relationship. No the show didn’t actually use this metaphor, but it does feel like my head is being thinly strapped over a long term deal -a fine looking prospect at that. However, one that I wasn’t so sure about, which if I take seriously now, might just mean I wasn’t that crazy about in the first place.

I noticed that as delicious as it may be to the savoring idealist, it seems that the spectators are becoming more enthused about it than I am. One of the regulations I set was that people I loved would have to somewhat like or approve of him -in a way “green lighting” the thought of us. But I see that those that have waited alongside me on my future potential one, have surpassed me in the joy of my own experience. They are more happy than I am of my own happiness. More excited than I am.

Oops, I did it again..again?
I was worrying more about making the right decision and not hurting him than just enjoying the process. More dates passed, and the more I bit away at my nails. I’m drifting away in thought of not liking him as much as I’d hope. Already imagining the familiar distant and hurt look I will have to gaze back at upon revealing this horrible truth.

I can’t believe I’m doing this again.

Years from now maybe I’ll have it all figured out.
Then again if I’m still myself, I’d probably still be picking up the leaves as they fall. Figuring it out as they come.
For now, whenever I read back to this I’ll remember how just as Lorelai Gilmore wished she loved Max, I’d wish I could love a good, good person who fit me well and wanted me. And could settle with just that.

I’d wish I didn’t already put my heart in a box with someone else’s name on it.

lei