Missing You.

I was supposed to go to the Metropolitan Museum with my friend to see a new show they just put up on Paul Poiret however she bailed out on me last minute so I ended up blasting my music in the room, ironing, packing and eating cake (I have so much sugar in my fridge alone- I'd get diabetes if I tried eating it all prior to my departure).

Sometimes I feel like the only time I can be utterly serious is when I'm writing here. And on MSN I feel a little obligated to be lighthearted and happy.

I'm in that state again.
That state of sentimentality and wistfulness.
It happens at least four times a year.

The great thing about New York is that you don't need a car to do anything. I walked around alone by myself today- something I do a lot when I'm bored. Certain places trigger certain memories- looking down on University Place Ave north reminds me of a cousin who will no longer be just three blocks within reach. Actually a lot of things remind me of Robyn- and now knowing that she will be gone has just enhanced and further deepened those places where the memories were conceived.

It's a love-hate thing on my behalf. I hate that overwhelming feeling of sadness when I know someone I care for deeply has gone- when a certain song or image unlatches the door to a flood of sepia washed memories. And yet I can't resist leafing through those memories in which I found so much happiness in.
I think one Sunday, after church, I will walk to Bagel Stix and sit alone there with the plain bagel with vegetable cream cheese that we both so grew fond of- lean my head against the glass and watch people pass by.

Why do I play such games? As if pretending my imagination could will them into physical existence. It's all a silly, stupid thing I do. I sit there and stare and imagine the missing person is actually there. I pretend that their presence is here with me and search for a sense of companionship in my loneliness. Why do I try and grasp onto something that is evidently not there?

I just want to know something in this world doesn't change. I want it to stand still and let me hold it for a while- to let me get to know people better before everyone disperses. I don't like variables- I like constants. y=mx+b. My life has always been a variable- always shifting, moving and changing- and I mean that in a physical sense.
Someone asked me where I picture myself in five years. I said China because I'd like to give China a shot. Or perhaps I'll be stuck here. I don't know. But thinking of the future makes me tired because I can't even handle the present.

People laugh when I say I'd miss 'so and so'- I mean I won't see her for a few months and perhaps another for three quarters of a year- but I'll see them eventually. Yet they don't factor in that I move simultaneously and the time it takes for me to get to know a person and develop a sense of fondness for him/her. It's been very hard on me mentally.
Time and distance are the primary reasons why all my friendships have faded.

And having to move, my first instinct is to simultaneously grasp and hold onto old friendships while trying to make new friends. And it gets a little tedious after a while so I just stop 'wasting' time in these things and establish relationships that only satisfy that awkward feeling I get in large social settings- like I falsely belong to clique or group.

God, it frickin sucks. I hate being the sentimental one- I try as hard as I can to deviate from it, but in the end, it always comes to this: me missing people, being wistful and living in the past. Sometimes I wish I loved people less, was less emotionally attached, less 'needy'; less of everything and more strong and independent.

But it's impossible.

I was watching another episode of Silence today, a Taiwanese drama, and one of the main characters who is a rich and handsome CEO, is thinking and gives this analogy of his life. If life was like driving a car, my entire ride has been smooth sailing- no bumps or detours- no problems, issues or hardships. Perhaps this is why I have arrived at the end so early and got so little out of life.

Looking at it in this perspective really did comfort me because I feel like I'm always hammering at the same issues, the same set of problems and finding no or little solution. There are no quick fixes to my problems and I get more impatient and passive as the days go by. But I know, pray and hope, that with time, I'll see results.

So I will walk home at 10pm when all goodbyes have left our lips, and as I pass 16th street, look back at Anthropologie where we part ways every Thursday evening.

And I will sit on the floor back in Toronto soon enough, close my eyes and listen to this particular song and remember you- although physically apart, existing in a few memories.

I'm such an idiot.