soz shakespeare for saying I could write better than you.

It’s starting to feel like I have an existential crisis every day.
To feel or not to feel.
I think it would’ve made a better quote. Soz Shakespeare.

This is one of those pieces that you write and then delete. Write and delete. Have a beer, write. Read over and find it way too overshare-y, delete. You get my drift. But I’ve really enjoyed my latest couple of pieces, and they’ve all been quite personal. And y’all, the readers, have been absolute godsends. To every one of you that sent me a message or told me you liked it or it made you feel understood or thankful for the significant others in your life or even just fricking read it, thank you so much. I don’t think you’ll ever realise how much that means to me. Seriously, makes soul-crushing introspection worthwhile.

So, back to my recurring existential crises. (Or is it crisis because even though it’s occurring multiple times, it’s the same premise so really only one crisis? Can someone let me know, I ummed and ahhed over this for more than a second). Anyway, so unlike me to digress. On a sentence that was supposed to be realigning myself. Feelings.

Anyone that has known me for more than a second will know that me and feelings ain’t the best of mates. Heck, even if you have known me a second you might know this. And it’s not me saying I don’t have feelings as some ploy to disguise the fact that I in fact spend all my free time crying in bed, nursing a beer (despite what my previous facebook status would make you think), cursing the existence of the man I had previously thought would be my Prince Charming until a prettier-funnier-more-put-together girl had come along and filched my man. No, it goes deeper than that. In fact, feelings and I have never really seen eye to eye.

Because they’re pretty shite (keeping it PG Mum). And while this is a definite correlation to my hypothetical single friend’s experiences, I don’t deny that, I’m pretty sure even you happy people out there can attest to multiple times that old mate feelings hasn’t done you any favours. In fact, even going as far as to purposefully stitch you up. And yes, there’s 100% latent bitterness there. I’ve never had a boyfriend. Who didn’t see that bitterness coming. Because I’ve liked people. Romantically, non-romantically. The whole kit and kaboodle. I’ve had sentiments for people, even if it is purely just to high-five them on a regular basis. Friendships and those things that are nearly relationships but also are so damn far from it. Inklings for emotional connection.

And so often we get drunk on these. You hype up these situations in your head. We’re going to be best friends forever and we’ll get brekky every Saturday and tell each other everything and never have fights and even if by some magical occurrence a “discussion” takes place, we’ll forgive each other and order another espresso martini on our quarterly trip to Melbourne.

We create the perfect version in our heads. Hours have been spent in the shower, emulating my hypothesis on how my night will go. My outfit will come together exactly how I planned, my winged eyeliner will be symmetrical first go. The guy I like will be there. We’ll get to talk. He’ll discover that I’m funny af and like beer. He’ll realise he wants to spend the rest of his existence with me. We’ll have an April wedding. You get the gist.

And these feelings that we get, they can last a surprisingly long time, the sons of bitches. You can spend weeks checking your phone every five minutes. Did they like my photo, or send me a DM asking if I’d mind if they bought me some chocolate. Every time you go to an event, you scan the room to see if they’re there. Spend the rest of the night with one eye on the door. Constantly being disappointed when they click ‘going’ on the FB event but don’t actually go (please, if you do this, stop. It’s probably driving some other pathetic human crazy).

And every time it disappoints you. You do some FBI level lurking and discover they’re seeing someone. Or they just turn out to be a dickhead. Or it’s just simply, not meant to be. Every time that happens I think to myself, it would be so much easier if we went back to the good old days of not feeling anything at all. And it was better, in a way. Not constantly repairing the broken heart (that’s no overreaction. Young people’s hearts are easily broken. I think it’s all the passion pop). It’s funny and also slightly worrying, but current Taylah is the most emotional Taylah that’s existed. Because the unfortunate fact of the matter is, while no feelings means no sadness, hurt, or disappointment, it’s not happiness either.

So, in close, here’s a thing I wrote previous to this moment that I’d forgotten I’d written, but ties in perfectly with this:

I have mended my own heart
many many times.
Picked up the pieces,
and put it back together.
But that isn’t the hardest part.
The hardest part
is putting it back together
without using metal and wood.
The hardest part is putting
it back together
soft
fragile
and still very very breakable.

Anyway, this was full of things. Please don’t hold it against me.