24- Dear God, the freaking out has started!
Let me tell you how I feel.
I haven’t written any stream of consciousness post for a long time. I think I’ll give it a try right now. I’m in that place in time where all I want to do is get it all out. Take emotional laxatives… just release. I wonder why potty is such a great example for everything- I’ve always preferred diarrhea to constipation for some reason. It’s so good knowing that at least that shits not IN me anymore.
In case you haven’t noticed- the bullshit flow has started already.
I don’t know HOW to feel. I don’t feel happy because I’m just so afraid. Getting married for me doesn’t mean responsibility, or compromise or any of that crap- I mean it does, but that’s not what’s freaking me out. What’s really terrifying me is the idea that I’m growing old.
Old people get married, right? Not youngsters like me.
I see married women and all I can think about them is that they’re so colorless, and boring, and typical and so [ok, I’ll be getting repititous here] very old. Even when they laugh and talk and joke around I can’t see them as young- young at heart maybe, but not almost-kids like myself. Regardless of the fact that I’ve graduated, that I have a job now, that I’ve been legally adult for 2 years now, I’m still just a post-teenager. I’m not eligible for marriage, you pervert.
So stop thinking of me in that way.
I see life moving past me, and it’s not the life I planned. Where’s SCAD? Where’s New York, where’s the independent, one room with kitchenette that I wanted for at least some time? I was supposed to do these things before I get married! Who’s f-ing with my schedule?? Is it you, God?
Oh. Well, carry on then. Can’t say anything to you, can I?
Marriage brings along a hubby, another family, eventually a kid or two…so much baggage. So much more people I have to think about. Here I am, not very good at thinking about myself even, you can’t expect me to handle all of them!
And oh dear God…what will I talk about?
What’ll happen when S. realizes I’m so very very boring?
What’ll happen when I realize S is boring-er?
He’s supposed to carry out the conversation! I just add the sarky stupid comments.
I mean, with my emotional capacity not being much more than a teaspoon, and wonderful interpersonal skills, how am I supposed to make this marriage work?
How will I keep this really great guy happy when I’m so rarely happy myself? Ultra high emotional maintenance is not much of a turn on, at least not in a wife. I mean, nobody marries the whiny, crazy bitchy. They just have a short, painful affair, end it by sending a text or moving to Peru, and spend the rest of their life trying to avoid the woman. Until they find her at a wedding, realize she’s STILL hot while wife is all cute and dumply, have another short painful affair, then return to wife and Peru, never showing their face in the country again.
Will I drive S. out of the country?
It’s so hard. Not knowing how to correctly feel. I can’t decide between elation, fear, sadness, anxiety…so much to fill in a teaspoon.
How can I feel happy thinking about watching football with S. when I remember the time Zehra and I watched the football World Cup to ogle Ballack’s legs? O.k, too graphic. I’m sorry. Stream of consciousness, remember?
I feel like a terminal cancer patient- Astaghfirullah. I keep thinking “My world is ending”.
Why can’t I think “My world is beginning?”
Why am I not made that way?
I’m so scared. Just so so scared. So scared of letting everyone down- my susral when they find out I’m not that bubbly, happy and social girl they thought they were marrying their son off to; my parents when they realize I’m not good at handling relationships and that I haven’t inherited even a shitty thimbleful of their social skills; S when I can’t be consistently supportive and appreciative- I’m just too bloody honest. When he’ll realize he is in a way, just too good for me- and myself, because I can’t keep pretending to be what I’m not. After all I’m supposed to be such an F-ing great actress and I here i am, not even being able to stop using the F-ing F word!
Just because I’m not typing it doesn’t mean I’m not screaming it in my head.
And don’t get me started on how I cuss when I drive.
What if I crash his car? I’ve been harping on about how I can drive so well now, what if I do something stupid like the O-turn?
So many what-ifs. So many questions. I wish I could just stop thinking, just like I’ve stopped talking. I don’t know what to say. I have verbal dyslexia all of a sudden. Sentences just don’t come out straight- because I’m not thinking about the conversation at all.
I’m just thinking about walking to the car and my mom crying her eyes out. That’s all I can think about. Not S., not my brand new tv with cable television, or the clothes. Just walking away from my world as I knew it- and I’m not sure anymore that I’ll be doing it willingly.
Ok. I’m done now..
Thank you and good bye.
I’ll go hide under my bedsheet now and bite off the remaining nails I have.