thoughts.

I never thought I would ever commit to a blog. But then again, I also have resigned to having a Facebook, a Twitter, a smartphone (well a series of them since my track record is rather awful)... I'm debating an IPad now, but that's really not what this post is about.

I had resigned to the fact that blogging did not suit me is because, who really cares what I have to say. But a wise friend told me that my blog could simply function as an outlet for my musings, my frustrations, and even to my dismay, my pain.

Today's post is about missing someone. It happens to all of us. And you know what, it absolutely sucks.

I'm not the type of person to admit to caring about someone, let alone missing them. The mere thought that I might expose myself to vulnerability and rejection is enough to send me proverbially running for the hills.

But what I have learned in the past few months, is that missing someone, and never really letting them know, does absolutely nothing. Sure there have been those drunk dials, those moments when you let something slip and immediately wish you could take it back. But that doesn't count because we can all just take a page from Jamie Foxx and "Blame it on the Alcohol". What I've found though, is the reason we are so quick to blame everything on reckless nights of what I like to term "degenerate fun" is because we are afraid to take ownership of our feelings.

At least I am.

For me, it is a lot easier to play off any drunk confessions, as just that: drunk confessions... which immediately implies they don't mean anything and should be taken with a grain of salt. The reality is though, alcohol makes us fear rejection less, makes it hurt less because, after all, we probably wont remember any of it in the morning.

The question that comes to mind is ... why must we rely on alcohol to be honest? I think the answer is .. because honesty with alcohol is like a white lie in broad day light. Everything is implied, but nothing is said directly, 100% in the face. Incomprehensible scrambles of letters that are most likely supposed to say "I miss you" could just as easily say "How are you" ... Drunken hazes are an aethereality in which we can admit everything, and mean everything, but cover it all up as a silly mistake.

Sure we can go to sleep and forget about it in the morning. But what about the person on the receiving end of the scrambled letters and slurred words? What are they left with at the end of the night?

My guess would be, complete and utter confusion.

So why is it, that I feel I can only call to tell you I miss you when I have a glass in my hand, even though I miss you just as much when I'm holding a bottle of water?

Because I am scared to take ownership of my feelings. I know that if I put them out in the world, there is no taking them back. "I didn't mean to send that to you" and no "that was meant for someone else" doesn't fly in Soberville...

But today I miss you. I know we weren't "anything" and to you this could all mean absolutely nothing ... that I was merely a tool - someone to help you boost your grade, someone to exploit when you were bored, someone vulnerable you chose to toy with ... I have no explanation for it. And there is no logic behind it whatsoever. But it's plain and simple: I miss you.

Sure I had 6000 chances to tell you, and each time I got close I pushed you away ... But today I take full ownership of my feelings in the blogosphere. And perhaps tomorrow, or the next day I will be able to share them in your presence ... baby steps.