Proceed, Progress

 

Maybe I’m getting extremely lonely or maybe I’m going insane. Either way, I’ve actually become comfortable in my own self-imposed solitude. In actuality, though, it’s not pure solitude, so I guess “selective solitude” is a better phrase.

It’s a weird situation, really: I’ve cut myself off from all but a few people in my life and somehow, though more plain and mundane, things seem to be better. Not a reflection upon the people I’ve chosen to be part of my life, no, not at all; more of a reflection upon the state of certain parts of my life right now. And, I guess, I’m beginning to prioritize and focus on other parts of my life right now, parts that I saw earlier in my life to disregard.

Yes, I know that there’s a great possibility that I’m burning some bridges here in the process of this hermit-ing myself and I’m probably going to let those bridges blaze in all their metaphorical fiery glory because, honestly, I don’t feel the need nor the compulsion to explain myself and the things I do. The only person, I’ve learned, that needs to understand why I do the things I do is me. And, quite frankly, it’s made me happier this past week to just be me and to just be on my own instead of having to be ‘on’. Okay, yeah, I took about a cumulative total of about fifteen minutes bitching and moaning about “people this” and “people that”, but other than that I’ve been somewhat content in ignoring (future apologies inserted here) people’s phone calls, texts, emails, and instant messages. And, if people start getting desperate and start sending actual letters and carrier pigeons, I’ll probably just throw all that correspondence into the proverbial fire – my catch-all corner – without even bothering to read it.

It’s not that I don’t want to read any of the messages, whatever they may contain; quite the opposite: my curiosity is burning with the flame to know just what’s been written. I just realized that I’m done. To be more specific, I’m just done with what’s past. I can’t change it; I don’t want to bother myself with trying to make sense or rationalizing it; I could care less if you’re obsessed with it, just don’t bring it around here! Because it all comes down to this: shit happens – can’t change it and you shouldn’t dwell on it because that still won’t change anything. Of course, there will be those who say,

“Oh, it’s not that easy to just leave the past in the past!”

and to you, I say you’re an idiot. Of course it’s that easy! Just leave it the fuck alone! If you need to drag it out, let it be for historian’s purposes only! (Note: for those of you that do not understand the reference of ‘historian’s purposes’, it plainly means for examination so as not to produce similarly fucked up instances in the future.)

I think the best analogy of this is when Addison Montgomery (formerly of Grey’s Anatomy, currently of Private Practice, played by Kate Walsh; yes, I try to watch these as my own little escape from reality) told her ex-husband, Derek Sheppard (currently of Grey’s Anatomy, played by Patrick Dempsey), that after they divorced she mentally made him very small and put him in a tiny box, only taking him out of that tiny box when she had to. Props to Shonda Rimes for the romantically cynical dialogue (which I can’t for the life of me find or remember). But yeah, that’s what I want right now and that’s what I’m doing: fitting certain things in my life into tiny boxes and putting them away.