“The opposite of love’s indifference.”

I hadn’t meant for our conversation to end on the note it did tonight, but honestly you kinda really pissed me off. And the more I think about it, the angrier I feel. I suppose this is the release of a year of pent up resentment towards your being so frequently awful to me and my so infrequently mentioning it because you’re sick. You really think the appropriate response to someone pouring out their heart to you is “thank you for the correspondence?” Yeah, I get it you were “really tired” at 9pm, the arbitrary time you decided to reply, ten hours after having received my email and I so appreciate your letting me know that the message has been received with your two sentence reply. That was some seriously “affirming” shit right there. Your sister’s right, you are one condescending motherfucker.

One of the more awful places to be unhappy is beautiful islands in the sun. It is just so much harder to justify. In addition to whatever circumstances may be causing this bout of gloom, there is the guilt associated with not fully enjoying one’s surroundings (and everyone around you seems to be thrilled with their present existence!).

Loneliness is one of the hardest things to admit to. There’s such a stigma attached to needing people and struggling to make besties everywhere you go. The meaningful connections I’ve made on this trip have been few and far between. I would be rather be alone reading than engaging in the same played- out backpacker conversations (Where are you from? How long have you been here? What do you do back home?).

I had hoped to re-create my last summer in Europe, but now realize the concept was flawed from the get-go. I am older, the circumstances are different (no Colombian lover to hold my hand as we jumped between Balkan nations), and it is time to establish a new adventure model. Perhaps it is also time to find a longterm adventure partner.

I’m counting down the days until my return to the states. Three more until I can hide away in a room of my own and not be expected to be having the time of my life. I can’t wait.

“…No, it is impossible; it is impossible to convey the life-sensation of any given epoch of one’s existence, -that which makes its truth, its meaning-its subtle and penetrating essence. It is impossible. We live, as we dream-alone…”

– Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness

I am gonna make it through this year if it kills me.

I don’t know if you miss me, but I miss you. I wish we could eat frozen pizza and read web comics and watch “Girls” together, but we can’t. I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to sort out just why it is that the very idea of calling you makes my heart race and my mood deteriorate. Here’s what I have so far:

1. You make me sad.

2. You’ve made me feel insignificant time and time again – through your patronizing compliments, dead stare, innumerable references to exes, and various other words meant to keep me at arm’s length. I don’t trust you not to hurt me in this way again and again and again.

3. Seeing you with someone else would kill me. How can we be friends if I can’t be happy for you?

4. For reasons I can’t explain (I don’t feel like I ought to be angry, when you have done nothing explicitly wrong), I want to injure you. Although I might manage to refrain from moving my fist through the perpendicular plate of your ethmoid, I don’t trust myself not to say cruel words out of spite and ruin any chance of future friendship we might have.

5. Your companionship requires a great deal of time, emotional energy, and martyrdom. It wasn’t healthy for me before and it sure isn’t going to be healthy now. I have an out. I don’t have to give up any more of myself.

“Yellow is nature’s code for completely safe,” advises big brother Andrew, regarding meter-long sea snake.

“It’s the tragedy of loving, you can’t love anything more than something you miss.”

–  Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

Three days of long, solo drives – they’re starting to get to me. The audiobooks, the motel rooms, interacting only with gas station staff and Suri – I feel lonely and homesick. I want to fly right back home or, at least, call/text/email/Facebook and tell him how much I miss him. I am unsure whether I am supposed to, however. Realistically, I suspect I will never actually see him again. Is this the point in which we are supposed to break off contact and move on? Has he already?

Thank goodness I will finally make it to Houston tomorrow. I so want to get on to getting on with my new life.