Let's Begin

     I was driving back home from my SAT this morning, listening to my ipod through the stereo, when I had the urge to be sad. "Well this is odd," I thought, but I did start to entertain the idea that something was wrong. My friend's grandmother is a psychologist, and I had a talk with her last weekend that made me think about a lot of things-- maybe it was starting to hit me. I almost let out a tear. "What was that?" And so began to think. Good thing the drive home is a long one.
     "Why would I be sad?" To call me stoic is an understatement. My demeanor is a paradox, really; I smile and laugh with who I could call friends and I do take school seriously, but I don't care about these things. I already know this nonchalance is a problem, but what did it have to do with my sadness? Then I fixated on the words of the song in the background. I started taking Adderall because I tend to let my mind wander-- it's probably a defense mechanism for my insecurities. Well, I wasn't really listening to the song lyrics; I was focusing on the title, "Caring is Creepy." I liked the title a great deal this morning, but something about it was eery on my way back home. And then I began to think about myself.
     I was disliking myself, hating myself even, because I realized that I don't know how to feel. And then I linked this absence of caring to love, and what I want it to be: I didn't see the face of the girl I wanted to love, I just slight freckles under the eyes and on the nose, like me, and eyes that don't judge-- someone that I could just sit down with and not say a word and not feel the need to say a word. Finally, I cried. It was only a few tears, but I even surprised myself.
     I have always been geared to do the job, to accomplish the goal. Make A's, do well on your tests, don't disappoint me! But, I have never really made myself happy. That's not to say I don't like my A's or accomplishing "my" goals, but I most certainly am not getting the kind of pleasure out of it that someone who loves doing those things gets. I am sad, and I do not know what it feels like to be happy.
     Snap out of it. And I was watching the road again, though not really paying attention to the cars around me but to the music, again. "Slow Hands" by Interpol was now on, and I wanted to hear my favorite song from that album, "Public Pervert." I found the lyrics interesting before, so I wanted to grasp onto something familiar; I needed a totem.
     "If time is my vessel then learning to love might be my way back to sea." Spontaneously, I became happy. Naturally, I wanted to be happy after being so sad, so I instinctively did what needed to be done. Instead of thinking about how hard my proposed love will be to find, I began to think about how I could go about making it happen. I don't know how to show my feelings, but I can practice it in my head, even if in my head there wasn't much showmanship anyways. I imagined being at a party on the beach with unfamiliar faces (a small private school is not the best place to re-invent oneself). I began to think, inside this imagination, about what I would do if I didn't want to be around the commotion of the party and just wanted some time to myself. What would I do, what would I do? And then I saw a girl sitting in the sand, looking out over the sea to the slightly setting sun, thinking about nothing, really; just being satisfied that she was just sitting and watching the sun set. Nothing bothered her, but nothing made her happy either, and I was drawn to her, so I went to sit next to her. "What do I say now?"
     Back to reality. I had no idea what I would say; moments like that are so private that there is nothing to say, but you have to say something when you meet a person for the first time doing something like that. Let's reverse the roles.
     I re-imagined being at the party on the beach with unfamiliar faces. I thought again about what I would do if I didn't want being around the commotion of the party and just wanted some time to myself. I wasn't mad at the people around me making their rehearsed, superficial small talk like I normally would have been, but I didn't feel like being in the scene. So I walked off and sat in the sand on the shore, looking out over the sea to the slightly setting sun, letting the cool water glide over my feet. Then, a girl sat next to me, looked at me and smiled, then turned to feel the sea with me, the only "real" thing there.
     And I don't know what happens next. But, the idea of such happiness made me smile.  I thought a little about how I should have reacted after that; somehow text her using the phone number I never asked for, what our intimate moments would be like. But, I was, for a few minutes, happy.
     I had an epiphany today; I realized that I am sad because I don't think anything is "real." Because I don't think anything is "real," I don't care about the outcomes, because "it never really important anyway." I need to learn how to recognize when something is real so that I can then care about it. And right now, what's most important is that I need to recognize that my need for happiness is what is most important. I know that in my current state love is a long shot, but I need to have goals (again with the paradoxes), right? Once I learn how to care about my happiness I will be able to learn how to love. But, I now know that if I learn to care about making myself happy I will be a better person, and if I learn to love, well then I'll be the happiest person I can be. So, if time is my vessel, then learning to love might be my way back to sea.