Just Feel Like It

3:30 AM. Across the country, my mom is probably already up and getting ready for work. My uncle with cancer is resting, hopefully without too much pain. My cousins are getting their children ready for school in some cases, daycare in others. My fiance is snoring behind me, having fallen asleep to an episode of Star Trek: Voyager; his dad snores in the master bedroom, loud enough that I can hear it through his door. Outside the small window, Ripley is meowing to be let in off the garage roof - I tell her to bug Travis, because she managed to get on the roof through the hole in his screen, whilst ours is still intact. The letter I sent to my uncle is sitting in the mailbox near the house.

And I still feel like writing. For once in a long while, I feel like writing. I put pieces of my heart into that letter earlier in the afternoon, and was getting choked up near the end. Maybe - just maybe - I can keep in practice. Maybe I can pull myself out of this depressive rut.

Today I found out one of my closest guy friends had his girlfriend of over two years leave him. It was her fault - she told him she doesn't love him anymore, but I know that he still loves her. Part of him hopes that she'll come back, but his better judgment knows that won't be the case. I wish I could give him a hug, but he's all the way across the country. He was telling me about how he wishes he had someone to care about to sleep with (not sexually) in the empty bed; three years ago, that might have been me, but now everything has changed. I still wish I was over there, so I could take him out to tea at Dobra's, or play Smash Bros. Melee with him until our thumbs fell off. Or he and Case and I could talk Star Trek until our heads spun. My friend is holding up well, but he LOVED her, and she left him... it wasn't his fault that she was so screwed up.

When I was younger, I was screwed up too. Not enough to require anti-depressants, or psychiatric help... but I was screwed up. My morals were ambiguous in terms of relationships - basically I was a walking hormone. The second long-term relationship that I left was mostly because I didn't feel an emotional connection with the guy anymore. He was often very clinical, detached... he didn't want to talk things out, even though I knew we were having problems... he didn't want to hear about the problems I felt I was having. I went out searching for men I could connect with on an emotional level - and found plenty... and when I knew I had found someone who suited me better, I talked with my guy one last time, and we broke up for good. It hurt us both - just because he was more emotionally detached didn't mean that he didn't care about me, and I still felt a lot of love for him. But we're both well aware that it was for the best. We had started out as friends, on a much more intellectual level, and that continues to be how we are today. His personality has shaped mine in terms of humor and knowledge (I wouldn't have become such a hard-core gamer without him), but I'm still very emotional. Despite our differences, he was still very glad to see me visiting this past summer, and let me crash on his couch for several days.

My friend's situation isn't going to be so easily remedied. He comforts himself with the agreed fact that there was nothing he could have done to save things - he was himself, and a loving, attentive boyfriend. I'm well aware of how sweet and kind and fun he can be... and how someone would be able to give him up is beyond me. But she did. Her loss. All the plans they may have had once are now thrown into tangles... not sure how it's going to work, except I think she's moved out, and he has to go live with his folks because he can't afford the apartment alone. He'll be commuting an hour or so between classes and home... luckily he got a new car recently, so he should be able to manage it without fear of breakdown.

Goddamn it, I wish I was there. I wish I was back east, so I could be there for the people that really need me. My uncle Burl died - I wasn't there. My uncle Earl is dying - I'm not there. My friend needs a hug - I'm not there. My other friends and my parents miss me - and I'm stuck out in California, in the suburbs, getting pissed off at yappy dogs and car alarms and regular alarms and my work hours being cut. Stuck in this room because there isn't anywhere else to go, no one to hang out with except Case and his family (and his family isn't really my sort of social company), gaming and watching recorded TV and DVDs, trying to get my ass out of debt...

What happened to me? Where did that hopeful, diligent, creative young woman go? All the projects I was working on in college have fallen by the wayside. I've painted a few times, and drawn a few times, but when was the last time I really sang? Or danced? Why can't I find a good job that uses my talents? Why can't I make friends out here, after a year?

The past month or so has really taxed my sanity, I guess. Sickness, death, money issues... sometimes I've almost felt suicidal, wanting to end all the stress... but it's never been so serious. There's still too much hope for my future, for my life with my fiance, and so I heave myself out of another rut and trudge on towards that distant brightness.

One last note - Case has expressed genuine interest at naming one of our daughters B'Elanna. I am the luckiest geek girl ever. :)