June 5, 2012 I’m blind in a colorful world, or am I seeing clear in a dark world?
I’ve never understood people who “listen to all kinds of music”. For me, that’s the synonym to “I have no personality, I have no preference.
I’ve never understood those people who find it hard to stay in a relationship. Lately, I’ve been afraid of marriage.
“We didn’t go to this war.
We didn’t have to hide to have sex.
Our good fortune allowed us to feel a sadness that our parents didn’t have time for,
and a happiness that I never saw with them.” (Beginners, 2010)
You see, I’ve thought of that before. Many times before. And every time a scriptwriter writes a line in a movie I see, a line that is something thought of me before, I feel… smart.
There are not many times in my life, that I can remember, when I felt smart.
Usually, it happened when other people we’re surprised of something smart I’ve said.
I need recognition to allow myself to feel. I need witnesses. I need big words.
“She left home
when she was sixteen.
She lived here and here
and here and here.
She had three serious relationships.
She left all of them.
I had four serious relationships.
I left them, too.
Or let them fall apart.”
I had 4 serious relationships. All serious and long-term. Committed.
I don’t understand the notion of “not serious”, because I’ve never had a not serious relationship.
I only left one, the one with A. I remain in one, still, E.. I can’t count what I had with G. because it wasn’t a relationship. It had movie-potential. Too good to be true, in theory. It wasn’t.
But marriage scares me. This is the sign that maybe there is a limit of how much “seriousness” I can handle. I’m normal. Such a relief!
A’s girlfriend has a facebook timeline picture that A took when he was still with me. He showed it to me, after taking it. He was so proud. Now it serves as his new girlfriend’s cover picture.
I’m not scarred for life. But I’m attracted to that side of the world. I’m attracted to sadness. To loneliness. To the people who aren’t really normal. Like the people Diana Arbus would take photos of.
There were days when I would just go from website to website, reading about people who weren’t really normal. Because the majority sets the example, the majority is normal and therefore the minority is not. But that conclusion only works when the premise is “we life in a perfect world”. What if we are the abnormal ones, and they, although fewer, they are normal? I know. I’m tired.
I never understood people who were always happy. Unconditioned happiness is or a sign of stupidity, or a sign of not wanting too much from life. If the first option, I don’t want to be happy, I’d rather be smart. And fabricate my happiness. If the second option, then I’m jealous, that’s the recipe for Happiness; unfortunately, there are no instructions as to how to prepare it.
I’m blind in a colorful world, or am I seeing clear in a dark world? Is it the same?