Last night was painful. Very painful. Sadly, it’s not the most painful New Years I’ve ever had. That’s a story for another blog post though. I welcomed in 2008, 2009, 2010 and 2011 with P. And anytime before that I was too young to really understand love. This year was the first year I went into by myself. The thought was calming in a way. No one else to worry about. Just me. I prefer to worry about other people though. I can solve others’ problems easily, and I enjoy doing it. I’m not very good at handling my own pain.
I had a small glimmer of hope in my soul that D would text me and wish me a Happy New Year. Now that I think about it, it was dumb to even hope that. He was surely with his ex. If he wasn’t he would have already been talking to me. So of course midnight rolled around, and I’m alone. No texts from anybody. My brother seemed to sense my sorrow. We’re very, very close. He encouraged me to have a few more glasses of champagne, while he got high. Then we played Pokemon Stadium which is an old game for Nintendo 64 (I must confess I am a video game geek). His hilarity distracted me for a few hours. He’s younger than me and currently dealing with his girlfriend being madly in love with him. It certainly was interesting to hear the male perspective on high school love.
At 3 a.m. I finally got in bed. I had three glasses of champagne and I bit of wine in me so I was feeling fairly buzzed. And I was hurting. A lot. When I’m feeling broken and lost I usually turn to music to help me through. If I need a “sign” or something to tell me what to do, I press shuffle on my iPod and let the song speak to me. I suppose it’s my small belief in a supernatural. Last night, I did this. The song “Franklin” by Paramore came on. (Here’s a link to the song http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XwpMxFOGW8c and lyrics. Also, if you ever wonder what I look like, Hayley Williams is a good representation.) Basically, hearing that song broke me. I realized that all this obsession with D was just my heart trying to cover up the real pain. The pain of P. P and I have the same hometown. We met in high school. Which is why the lyrics “And going back won’t feel the same if we aren’t staying. Going back to get away after everything has changed” ring so true. Here I am back at home, but nothing is the same. I bawled last night. Remember earlier when I said I didn’t think I could shed more than a few tears over anything anymore? Well I was wrong. I still only cried for five minutes, and I’m sure the alcohol assisted with that. But the whole experience left me feeling emotionally drained and empty. To say I’m feeling lost right now is quite an understatement.