Inspiration in the form of a plush rhino

Nineteen.

There's a small problem I'm becoming more and more aware of.

My life from ages 19-22 is a big blur.

Maybe that just goes with the territory of an up and down, on and off, almost 3 year relationship where you're busy figuring out who you are, busy growing up, while making that fit with someone else.

I was 19 when I met him. It was during what I now affectionately refer to as the "lost year". I was tired, and scared, and stressed. I met him when I needed a bright spot in my life--when I needed someone who could make me smile.

He made me smile. He made me laugh, I was perfect. He was perfect. There are a dozen snapshots I carry around in my head of that time, funny memories, sweet ones, special ones.

Then something changed. I turned 20. I got a little bit older, a little bit wiser, a little bit more mature. But somehow, the good parts didn't keep up with me, and things got a little bit worse. We fought, we were stubborn, we let things slip away because neither of us would bend. There were other factors, some that I'm not proud of. And then he decided it was time to let go. And he did.

Except that it didn't stick, and a month later, we were back to 19. A little more scarred, a little more cautious, but back where we had been--or as close as we could get. And it worked, for a little while. Until things went south as quickly as anything could possibly go south. Reprecussions from that time lasted for a year. Things were yelled, feelings were crushed, and a 4-month silence hovered.

Then he called. And slowly, gradually, things repaired themselves. We were more cautious this time. I had other things on the horizon. I met someone new, and for a minute, I was done. Then that ended. He was the first person I called, for reassurance, for comfort, for consistency. Because by then, that's what we were for the other--something constant. Dependable.

And we slid back into our same cycle. Nothing stands out much from that point onward--it's a general haze of what happened, but I can't pinpoint any exact moments the way that I could before. Weekends, random weeknight trips, fights, hugs, tears. It all fades into a year's time.

Then summer came again, and we took a new direction. I began to lift myself out of the fog, began to see the problems, the reasons not to bury my head in the sand again. I spent that summer trying to ignore them. Fall came, and I finally had to admit to myself that things had stalled, that things had failed to change, that things were truly over. And it hurt, and it was hard, and there were more fights and more tears and more periods of silence.

In the end, it was our consistency that was the problem.

In the time that he knew me, I had 3 birthdays. I changed majors. I had my first legal drink. I voted in a Presidential election for the second time. I made new friends, kept old ones, and left some behind. I grew up during all of that--I left some characteristics that weren't favorable behind. I matured. I became painfully level-headed when I had previously been prone to overreacting.

But in his eyes, I was 19. Even at age 22, I was 19. I was still naive. I still needed him. I was still his "little one". I don't think he intended to keep me that way. And if he did intend it, I don't think that it was even a bad thing in his mind. He liked me at 19. If he hadn't, none of this ever would have started.

He wanted me to be 19, but he wanted to be 23. And his 23 year old self was more and more frustrated--he could related to my 19 year old self when he was 20. When he was 23, it was more difficult. And I was changing. I wanted to be considered his equal. And as much as he tried, I was never going to stop being 19 to him.

It's been about 8 months since that ship finally sailed for good. I learned a lot during those 3 years, but right now my focus is on what I didn't learn.

This entry is painfully personal, and I'm not sure that it'll remain up.

But it's what is in my head, and what I needed to get out. It's real, and it's the stuff that I never tell anyone. Sure, it's not the most laid-back, level-headed piece of prose on the market, but no one is perfect.

Right?

Nineteen
Finished up with high school
Headed to a state school
Wandered into you.

posted by K @ 11:20 PM