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I'm new to writing, and I'm looking for some critical feedback. |
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I watched as the plane cut through the sky. I imagined the people on the plane, flying to new and exciting destinations. Those people were probably full of anticipation, eager to leave this stump of a city; excited to go to another place. Any other place. Envying them because I desperately wanted to leave this place too, I started to think about where I would go. Where could I go to get away from this life that I have gotten myself stuck in? What place would be able to bring me out of these droll, empty days of monotony? My daydream for some magical journey that could take me away from my problems was dashed, and I was jolted back into reality with a quick jar by slamming on my breaks in my car. I shouldn’t be watching planes fly through the sky when I should be watching the road. The heavy traffic was intense and tested the little patience that I had left. It was seven o’clock in the morning, and I was already THIS frustrated with my day. Remnants of last night still clung to me and were evidenced by the bulging bags under my eyes, and I wondered which days or nights would be different. My faith in the world was draining out of me with every tap on the brakes, with every driver talking on a cell phone, with every chewed piece of gum on the street, with every belligerent Dunkin Donuts worker, with every unfulfilled desire to change my situation. I have done everything right in my life, yet everything was so messed up. I had all the material things in the world that would make someone happy. Yet, at this age, how come I am not settled? When I was young, and my parents were my age, they were grown-ups. They were real adults. They were married, had crappy jobs that they completed without complaint, a stable household, two children that idolized them, a dog, a car, friends, and a certain attitude about living that made them stable. It’s not as though they didn’t struggle. Money was always an issue, but it never prevented them from living their lives. They were so mature and seemed to have everything together. Yet, I meander through each day of my life aimlessly. I complete each day by checking off the endless items on my life’s “to-do” list. I began to think that I couldn’t do anything unless it was on my list. I did everything that I was supposed to do. I finished high school, went to college and worked as a waitress to earn money, went to graduate school to get a Master’s, got salaried jobs, had relationships, got married (and divorced), but I still haven’t quite been able to get it all right. It just didn’t feel right. None of it did. Nothing felt the way that it should feel. My childhood image of an adult did not connect with the life that I was living. I jumped around from job to job. I treated friends like items from a vending machine. I bought a house. I had a roommate. None of it mattered. Nothing had value. Nothing had worth. I went through my normal rituals of the work day. Everything went as it always did, and I went home, hoping that my evening plans with Luis would change my bleak outlook. Although we had our ups and downs, I desperately looked forward to seeing him each day. He was charismatic and interesting, but he was too stoic and emotionally distant to be anything more than a fuck buddy. The chemistry between us was undeniable. At times, it was almost too much to bear. Unfortunately, our personalities got in the way of each other. We should be perfect for each other because we shared similar interests and were both perfect on paper, but as we all know, that doesn’t mean anything when you are actually dating. To be fair, we were not actually dating due to the fact that Luis didn’t “date” people. He didn’t believe in the institution of dating, which was clearly an excuse to have sex with no strings attached. We had been seeing each other for two years now. Two years of non-dating was getting exhausting. We did all of the things that couples do: vacations, romantic dates, going out with friends, throwing parties, going out to movies, enjoying nights at home watching tv, playing hours upon hours of mindless video games, competing against each other in fiercely competitive games of tennis or basketball, running together, cooking, cleaning, repairing, singing, laughing, and crying. Yet, through all of this, we were not a couple. The fact that we weren’t a couple began gnawing at me. To be honest, it was more than just beginning to gnaw. It had been gnawing at me for a very long time. Longer than I care to admit anymore. We would have the “what are we” conversations almost monthly. My wanting to be in a relationship always lost out to his wanting to just “hang out”. There were many times that I didn’t really believe that we needed to be a couple, and it wasn’t really the status or the label that I wanted. I wanted to know that he wanted to be with me. I wanted desperately for him to want to be with me the way that I wanted to be with him. It was all in vain because, although he liked me, he was not willing to take the next step to be in a relationship. I, on the other hand, was not willing to give him up. I was not willing to sacrifice this to yet another failed attempt at a relationship. I was not ready to give him up as a friend, confidant, or a lover. His presence meant too much to me, but I didn’t know why. It’s not like he fulfilled anything in me that any other man wouldn’t be able to fulfill. I just needed a warm body to cuddle up to at night. He was a special kind of person that was ardently confident and independent, so much so that cockiness oozed into every fiber of his personality. I was awed by his ability to never need anyone or anything. He was never clinging to anyone else’s ideas of how to live, and he certainly never needed anyone to validate his actions or beliefs. I idolized him, even though he was an asshole to me. He focused on himself, and didn’t require anyone, like me. My cell phone lit up and vibrated. “What are you up to,” Luis texted. “Not sure” I replied “I’m mowing my lawn.” “Fascinating” “You know where I am if you want to join” “Do you want me to come over?” “If you want to” “But do you want me to?” “I’m not playing this game.” True. He would not play the game. I was seeking validity in him wanting to hang out with me. He knew he would get his way. He knew I would be there. I hated that he knew me so well. |
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