To degauss: to remove unwanted magnetism in order to correct some sort of disturbance.
Twenty-something. Graduate student. Musician. Martial Artist. 90s Kid. ENTP. My life is not my own.
When I was young,
I thought the love of my life would come
swooping out of the night and into my arms.
I wondered if he’d be the new boy in class,
or the one to move in next door.
You see, I read so many books as a little girl,
all full of star-crossed lovers.
Romeos and Juliets, Bonnies and Clydes,
all the most unsuspecting victims.
So, when you piqued my curiosity, I’d try you on.
"You never know who you could end up marrying"
But test run after test run resulted in a laundry list of names,
and faces I too frequently check up on.
I refuse to let go, not because I loved them,
but because they reassure me.
They make me believe that I’m worth something,
that I got picked and that I won.
They are all trophies, stacked up neatly on the mantle of my mind,
proving to me that I am wanted.
And I still I refuse to dismantle my own alter.
And the black hole descends.
So frequently I stop and look around only to learn again that this is not where my heart is at home.
Why am I so emotionally unstable? Like, it’s amazing that I haven’t alienated or destroyed half the people in my life. For those of you whom I consider friends, thank you.
For the first time in my life, I am deeply jealous of you. You have found what was taken from me, and suddenly I am met with the reality of what I have.
I am both frozen and on fire, and I want to run and stay in denial simultaneously. I have never felt more conflict.
And just like that, the switch is flipped. It’s the moment I’ve been dreading and hoped I would escape this time around.
Something deep in me wants to run, and it makes me feel like a complete asshole.
Timehop reminded me that on this day, 5 years ago, I was the happiest I have ever been.
Youth fades so quickly. I’m glad that joy is independent of my circumstances and even the most powerful nostalgia.
Fruit cup and coffee for breakfast. Crying over my failure of an academic presentation for lunch.