splat!

It’s one of those nights. This is the kind of night where I know that, no matter how hard I try, sleep is not coming for me, so I might as well resign myself to the idea that I am going to be keeping my eyes open all night long. The good thing is that I am trying to spin my insomnia into inspiration, which is probably why I pointed over to WordPress; a blog isn’t much, but it <i>is</i> better than keeping these words in my head.

I’m not sure what’s been going on lately. I’m nineteen, but I might as well be thiry and fourteen, all at the same time. In four months my boyfriend is going to be twenty. Twenty! I know that you are supposed to have a mid-life crisis when you turn forty, that this is when you are “over the hill,” but I also feel that it is completely justifiable to feel the loss of your teen years as well. Twenty! My Lord, that number is so large. Two whole decades will he have lived. And then exactly six months later, I will have, too. Maybe it’s just me, but this doesn’t feel like one of those moments where you quietly contemplate the mysteries of life, it seems like the biggest “what the fuck” moment any of us have had to face as of yet, especially since, two days afterwards, it will seem like the smallest wonder in the world.

My therapist says that people my age are self-centered. Well, <i>duh.</i> Adolescence is the time in your life when it feels as though all of creation holds its breath in anticipation of your fate, whether it be glory or certain death. And for me, the latter part seems more of a reality than for many. I’m not being morbid, I’m just being realistic – as someone who is manic depressive, I am not exactly a stranger to thoughts of suicide. The good thing is that these thoughts are usually balanced out by times where the idea of time and space stopping for me and going on for other people is inconcievable. The irony of being bipolar – the idea of balance… I remember vividly, being a freshman in High School, preparing for the summer and becoming a Peer Leader, and my friend Lauren telling me to look for a girl named Kelly because she was “balanced” and that was exactly what I needed in my life, according to Lauren. And so I sought for balance, and prayed for it.

The Lord works in mysterious ways.

I do like nineteen. When you’re eighteen, this is amazing for the precious few moments that you are still in High School; even if it is months, these are still moments in your mind. At this limbo in time, you are a rock star in the hallways, the royalty of your school, and there is a sort of immortality that you embrace every day. On the day of my class’ senior picnic, I still remember the fervored speed I savored with my friend on the highway home. We found out not a half hour later that, not far behind us, a few of our classmates who were also speeding had crashed and died. Maybe this is when being eighteen stopped meaning so much. Nineteen has been much nicer; you stop feeling so small next to your older friends that you have met in college, and you have a better idea of where you are going in life. Or, if you are me, you have finally come to terms with the reality that you will never truly know where you are going or what is going to happen, so you might as well enjoy what’s going on.

Not that I’ll ever be able to stop questioning things. But that is what makes life delicious.

And now that I have purged, it is back to watching Sex and The City. Who bets that I can get through the entire series in less than a week? Looks like I’ll be blogging more and more each night. Stay tuned, I suppose; I have a therapy appointment later in the week and a job interview, so words might just tumble away out of me.