|
|
|
the archive(s):
issue no. 1:
Pendulum Politics / Ilya Zaychik
I go back and forth, with people. I go back and forth quickly and often and drastically, like a bipolar patient. It's normal, I've been told, but I don't know how others swing it, if they swing it at all.
For example, Jonah ditched me on a night when I really needed him to push aside all his other plans and make room for me. I got the impression that he would, but he didn't, and I wanted to tell him off for being such a prick, for failing me when I was looking forward to human contact all day. But I didn't. Who does that, really? It seems a little selfish, him having his own life to run and all. So I spent the bus ride up to Montréal stewing‹vowing to become a hermit, to swear off contact with all humanity because they can never be counted on anyway and they never fail to disappoint and leave you clutching at air when it's a body, a voice, a cigarette you want.
But I got to my apartment and Matt and MacKenzie left me a six pack of beer in the fridge as thanks for letting them use my place, and I smiled. I smiled and I laughed at myself for being so rash and dramatic. I laughed at the simple truth‹that I could never cut myself off no matter how much I want to sometimes. And I laughed because, ultimately, it's not a good idea.
It seems to me the balance between self and other does not exist, which is why we're led to believe rapid mood swings are normal (as long as you keep a smile on the outside, of course).
I've fallen into this ceaseless cycle of thought many times before and many more are sure to follow. And every time I don't know where to turn next, so I've decided to turn blind and see what hits me. A most indecisive decision, subject to change.
I've written this to myself a million times before. Hopefully, now, I'm writing to someone else, too.
|
|
|
|
|
| |
|
| |
|
