I grow tired of the people I know here -- so much that I find myself in the same building as they are but strategically avoiding them. Or even in the same room with headphones staunchly secured in my ears. I like not knowing what to expect from people, and I know exactly what to expect from these people.
I'm listening to an installment of This American Life about getting over the people in your life: relationships, mostly, but also just the idea of dynamics changing, the re-navigation of an emotional map. Recalibrating distance.
It's not just people here, though -- it's everyone I think I know well. I had a fight with my closest friend from high school yesterday, about something trivial, and after the fact I realized that I'd actually picked the fight so I could tell myself he no longer knew me anymore the way he used to in twelfth grade.
The perversity of this strikes me as surprising, especially given my otherwise incorrigible romanticism. After reading thirteen Shakespeare plays this semester, I now realize that I will never like comedy as long as it mocks true love or anyone who believes in true love. But the emotional involvement necessary for romantic love far exceeds that which is expected in friendship, and I can't even muster the patience for friendship.
Paradox, paradox -- I'm sure some consistency underlies this inner conflict, but I'm not sure I need to figure it out. Instead, I'll look forward to the summer: new cultures, then something like peace and quiet in Durham.
i know precisely what you mean, in some ways. :P
ReplyDeletedo you get enough time by yourself with no one in the room?
ReplyDeleteEh roommate's basically always in the room (but usually also unconscious). College is a cesspool of people everywhere.
ReplyDelete