Surviving

The last semester of my undergraduate experience is about to begin.

I'm not ready.

I'm not ready to face the individuals who send my heart into a panic, without second thought... "This is a person." Is something I'm confident does not cross their minds.  Express myself exceptionally well, as I do, only seems to dig me in deeper.

My resolution, certainly won't help.  Isolate myself.  That never seems to accomplish much.  I have a direct example of that in my life currently.  Look at where that got you.  Lonely, bitter, and most likely afraid.  I don't want that.  However, there is that moment where you decide or at the very least consider that perhaps it's easier than dealing with everything else.  I can't.  With only a semester left, it's poor form and cowardice.  It'll get me no where, fast.

So isolating myself is not my resolution.  Hence, why I am not ready.  I'm not sure what to do, but I'm certain that I'll manage.  I always do.

My bigger concern revolves around my living situation.  This time of the year is always a struggle for me and now I'm doing it under more stress than I seem to be allowing myself to comprehend.  Setting aside the ridiculous project I have strewn out before me and the expectations that people I have considerable amount of respect and reverence for have placed on said project, I live in a house (not including myself and my husband) with 4 other people... not including their random interchangeable counterparts... and to be quite honest, I don't really mind.  I mean, I knew what I was getting myself into... mostly...

I genuinely enjoy the company of others (probably more so than most people) but there seems to be more of an overbearing calling for me to be around, socializing in most times that I barely have the capacity for, lest the mental state of "happiness" in the household be left in ruin.

I don't have time to think.  I don't have time to converse with my husband.  I don't have time to write or even make stupid character drawings.

I don't blame anyone.  I really only blame myself.

Honestly, it's bearable.  I trust the people I'm around enough to tell them when I just need to be alone and count on them to understand.

That's really not what's bothering me anyway.

I have so much resentment, hurt, fear, and anxiety stored up all the time... but I gave up on looking for a solution to that problem.  There is only one and it requires about 5 months to pass by.  I would love to be able to express myself on the situation, to explain everything... but for what reason would I do that?  It's like screaming in the middle of a desert.  No, I take that back.  There would be more solace in knowing the desert isn't capable of understanding.

But pouring your heart, your hopes into something that could possibly receive it, understand it, but won't... due to it's own incapacity, it's one of the most painful experiences that I must keep to myself.  If I expose myself, I'm only making myself vulnerable and setting myself up for more disappointment.

My friend is gone.  Another person I love is dead.  A relationship I cherished and wished to rebuild is moving on.  Yet I continue to smile.

I have plenty of wonderful, amazing experiences coming my way, and I cherish the ones along the journey... but this path is unbearably grey.  I'm ready to move on, but I have to wait.  My next test of patience.  And I wonder... how many more?  Why?

When I move on from this place, it will just be concluding what has already been done.  My life, my heart, my home is no longer here.

I know I'll make it, but I just don't know how.  I'd rather not just merely survive, but sometimes, we have no choice.