I haven't blogged in a decent amount of time. I've felt like there's so much to say, but it's just too hard to explain. While I do have dreams to speak, the only thing I can think about is something I wish I wasn't.
There was a time, quite recently, when I was in love.
I might still be, but sometimes I don't know. Can distance carry a heart? Can time? I have sat here, in my room, so many nights trying to blink wide enough to escape the tears. I hate this. Cry
ing is not a part of who I am, but since I moved to Omaha four years ago, I've noticed more rain than sun.
When I came here, I wasn't ready. I needed more time at home, with my family, with my friends, with the mountains. My heart rests 800 miles away, through a winding mountain pass. At least I think that's where it is.
Love is a funny thing. Before this summer, I was a skeptic. Don't get me wrong, I wanted to believe, but never really had a reason to. My friend gave the term [love] a great definition while we were in high school. Love is habitual lust. Think about it. It hits the nail right on the head.
Sure lust is a form of love, (eros) but can we find something that goes beyond that? I thought I did. I still think I do. Hindsight, though, is 20/20. I may have done too much. Loved a little too hard. I get mad when I think of how much I gave and even more so when I think about how much more I would have given and would still probably give.
With such a great distance dividing two hearts, two souls, (and despite what my brother says) love cannot be defined and explained through phone calls and typed messages. Unfortunately, I'm always hoping for more of these, but know otherwise. I just hope that someday the 800 miles will shrink into eight inches. Eight inches that will separate our heads as they rest on a pillow. I may be wrong. I could meet someone here... yeah, right. This is not the place for that. Too bad.
I overheard a conversation in class during the first week of school. A girl had just met someone over the summer (two years her junior, over 1,000 miles apart and now her boyfriend). Her friend sitting next to her reaffirmed that and asked if she was doing the long distance thing. Her reply was, "Yeah, we're going to try it. It's only been a few weeks, but so far so good. I just know I'm not going to meet anyone here." My only thought: fuck.
How can college be the loneliest time for me? It's easy to get lost in a sea of popped collars, conservative judgements and mommy and daddy lawyers and doctors. Now, don't judge me. This is my blog.
I could say so much more, but I will spare you my petty problems. On another note, a more musical note, you should know that my thoughts tend to be like records. Broken and at times repeating. I go through songs constantly, looping them until I've found its replacement. Music has been a huge part of my life, like art. Not necessarily all the "hot up and coming" bullshit people get caught up in, but everything. I love and appreciate anything. I spent a significant amount of my childhood in a professional singing group and playing the cello. I toured Europe and all over the United States. Sometimes what is on my brain's repeat often surprises me. Right now, as I write, it is Sparks by Coldplay. I've honestly never really liked Coldplay or even listened to them, but right here as I am feeling all of this, it's perfect.
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