Where’s A Wishing Fountain When You Need One?

Fountain

Image by Noel C. Hankamer via Flickr

You know, I’m going to wake up at 3:45AM and get ready for work tomorrow. But I want awfully to write, I feel as though I have something to say.

I wish human beings were not so complex, I wish I could be happy spending time with my mother or speaking toΒ Heather or seeing Matthew (aka – Chase) and have the moment be simple. Cut and dry. I wish nothing bothered me, so I could be happy and people could be happy with me. I wish I never got angry or annoyed, people seem so terrible when they’re angry or annoyed. How wonderful it would be to only ever be content and accepting of circumstances. How easy it is to like who I am when I am content, when I’m rational, aware.

I wish I were simple. But sometimes (too, too often) I do and say things that don’t even make sense to me. I want to be fair and understanding but my impulse is always to judge and assume. I’m much better than I could and used to be, but this should not be enough. I don’t feel like it should be, anyway. Perhaps I’m wrong about everything, how am I to know until the future in retrospection of today?

I’ve been wondering things often that don’t make sense, and I wish I had someone to ask. There is a constant, nagging feeling that there is an absence in my life that should be filled. Like a missing piece of a puzzle.

Heather has changed a lot in the past year – she’s still who she has always been in person, but her words lately have evidenced outside influences on her phrasing and reactions. So much is happening in her life, that I don’t feel the genuine interest that used to be present when I would bring up current events in my life. I’ve never felt lonely before, not really, not until recently.

You know when a child stumbles and falls, how, as soon as the child stands they know immediately what face to look for to run to? I feel as though I’m looking for a face that does not exist. A person with no name or form. Heather will always be my Watson, my closest friend, the absence I feel is apart from her presence. Unrelated.

My last few posts have had a rather negative edge, when truthfully my days are much brighter due to my unofficial happiness experiment. It’s just moments such as these, after a day such as this, that has me writing in a manner such as that.

Now, I should certainly sleep, as I feel whatever was pestering my subconscious has made itself known.

Goodnight,

–Hannah-Elizabeth/Classic

Advertisements

14 thoughts on “Where’s A Wishing Fountain When You Need One?

  1. Thanks for being so real in your post. Some call the kinds of feelings you are talking about, “Divine discontent.” It certainly is not always pleasant, but my own experience is this: it you keep asking the questions, ultimately you will find answers that fit you in particular. The bad news – if there is any – is that nobody really knows how long “ultimately” will be.

    • So much of my thought process lately can be described using the term ‘like pulling teeth’, I keep trying to force a conclusion to come to light that simply isn’t ready yet. Like a kid trying to wear their parent’s sweater – I just haven’t grown up enough yet, I suppose.

  2. Oh my gosh! The way you described how when a child falls and they know and run for a face they know will comfort them and be there for them and you’re looking for a face of an unknown person. THAT’S EXACTLY HOW I’VE BEEN FEELING(or that I know what face to run to but I can’t) but I didn’t know how to describe it. Thanks for shedding light on that for me. When a child stumbles and falls how they automatically know what face to run to…..brilliant! You are an awesome writer in your way to relate things, not even in writing but in life too, and I’d bet it’s in your writing too.

    • Thank you – I’m glad you were able to relate to the post πŸ™‚ I worry sometimes about speaking too much about myself in my posts, and comments such as yours remind me how we’ve all been through one situation/range of emotions as each other, and fellow bloggers have given me fantastic advice because of what they recognize in my posts from their own lives πŸ™‚

  3. Yeah, people change, sometimes, it brings you close, sometimes not. The hardest lesson is to learn that we have to accept, whether we like it or not, the fact that nothing in life is permanent. I hope your friendship with Heather withstands the upcoming changes that are bound to happen, if it’s a good friendship, the chances are good.

    • Thank you, Alannah πŸ™‚ It’s difficult when 80% of our communication the past year has been through some digital medium, but I know when we do get to talk in person that we both want the friendship to last, and as of yet niether one of us is planning to jump ship. πŸ˜‰

  4. I’ve noticed in my post highschool life and in my kid’s lives that this seems to be a transitional age. You’re out of high school and into college. Your friends are all doing what they are doing whether it be going to a university far away or near home, working, or moving to another town or state. Everyone is going on their own path in life. My kids have experienced this and still are. Many of their friends are no longer around. Heather is doing just that. Finding her path in life now. I don’t think Heather will ever leave you as a friend, but she will be meeting new people and having new experiences. If it’s a solid friendship, it’ll withstand the changes of time, which I think it will.
    Love your brute honesty about your feelings! The analogy of a child falling and looking for that familiar face is very profound! I think we all experience that. I do at my age. I sometimes wish someone would make the difficult decisions. Or tell me what to do next and how. I just don’t want to make a wrong move. But that is what life is…taking that jump and hoping for the best. You just hope that familiar face is around when you end up face planting.

    • I really, really, really hate fear. It has controlled so much of my life that, in an odd way, fear has made me bolder. It feels like a bully after a while, and once I had matured a bit and looked at my original circumstances from the outside, I felt angry at this awful emotion that makes itself an invisible wall in between myself and actions in life I wanted/want to take. The intent of fear has always been protection, staying away from the thorn bush or hot stove lest one be pierced or burned, but a moment comes and passes when caution becomes crippling, and good intentions complete their paving to a destination that is elsewhere than originally planned.
      Lately I’ve been learning to nod at life and say ‘Alright, that is that.’ and accept moments as they come. I’ll never finish learning/relearning this lesson. I think really, life is just learning and relearning things we swore to ourselves we would never forget. Hopefully along the way I learn at least half as much as you have. Thank you πŸ™‚

  5. You know you love complexity. Being overwhelmed is a much more alive sort of feeling than being underwhelmed. Then again… minimalist art is ridiculously entertaining. I guess there are certain times you have to delve deep and make sense out of difficult things and other times when you need to step back to make things more clear. So then our brain is like a camera lens? Clearly I didn’t plan out this comment in the least…

    • I think I love complexity in a good mystery novel or word jumble in the morning paper πŸ˜‰ people, on the other hand, I have to say I prefer simplicity. When little things set us off and we don’t even know why, or when there are so many layers to an argument that it never feels completely resolved, or when we give each other mixed signals about anything and everything – this is the sort of complexity I hate. People are complex creatures, so obviously I do need to get over this sort of dislike and come to appreciate the neverending pages, appendixes, preludes, storyline twists and footnotes in the story of life. I suppose I ultimately mean that I, myself want to be simple, so that I wouldn’t read too much into anything or get angry at a passing comment.
      Unplanned comments are more enjoyable to read than planned ones! And I say yes, our brain is like a camera lens – reality is perception and the way we percieve and present information is revealed as fact or fiction not by a single documentary but by collective information and what we learn as time passes. (I’m not certain you’ve noticed – but I never plan out my comments in the least.)

  6. I don’t know about you, Mlle., but I’ve been finding that often, the people I turn to for assurance are my blogging lifelines, my online mentors. There’s a surprising amount of genuine intimacy that arises when we spot like-minded people among the many virtual acquaintances here. Odd, but reassuring!

    • WordPress offers an open door to finding like-minded human beings with the grandest of intentions. I honestly don’t know the sort of person I would be if I didn’t write here and communicate with all of you πŸ™‚

  7. Hey πŸ™‚
    For some odd reason, wordpress resized all my old images — turning my archives on their heads, and making me look like an amatuer.
    Anyway….
    Once, long ago, You merely liked my post. Well i came across that today, and took some time to read this, your last post in some time.
    It might sound cheesy — but if you’re still looking for a wishing well, i’m a marvelous ear, and would be glad to help. jaredblake7@hotmail.com.
    Dont be shy now, ya hear πŸ™‚

    • Sir, I can’t tell the difference between a Forbes photoshoot and a 10 year-olds Facebook profile picture, hence I am the last person who could accurately judge the quality of photographs πŸ˜‰
      Thank you sincerely for your offer – though honestly I pity the human being who will one day end up being my actual therapist. I will keep your comment in my mind, thank you πŸ™‚

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s