March 12, 2002 | 7:22 AM Central Time
Spring Fever

Theorum A: The amount of love someone feels for you is inversely proportional to how much you love them.

Correlation 1: Personal availability is a function of time.

Correlation 2: The minute you become emotionally involved is the moment that the objective bounds away.

It's not exactly a mathematical principle, but there has always been a little piece of this cynic in me that managed to believe in this, no matter what I was told from other sources. That somehow, the more my line would more up a graph, the line that I spent my life searching for would be inversely moving down the same scale, at the same speed, and as has always been my habit, the two meet somewhere in the third quadrant of the axis, at Friendship. And it held true, time after time. How was I to know when it would be able to change, if it could?

Complacently putting off my homework the other night (yes, again), I found myself searching the Internet for the names of friends from different states, to try to find a slice of their past, perhaps to use for conversation, perhaps just to learn more. Typing in my friend Maria's name led me to a poem from years ago, attached to a column classifying Hopeless Romantics. This is a term that I've come to embrace in the last few years, as a part of me, whether I wanted it or not. Not surprisingly, these people apparently only compose about 4 percent of the world's population, though if you ask me, that's a pretty liberal estimate. But the words pressed on, through the page and into my head...

"A 4% person may feel that they will never find anyone for themselves, or that they never get a true chance to prove themselves. They also feel that they can help anyone and often try to offer advice even if it goes against them. They are often the recipients of, "Let's just be friends," "I don't want to lose you as a friend," and the worst one yet, "You're too good for me." Most Hopeless Romantics are constantly losing "loved ones" to the more popular, better looking, less emotionally-attached members of culture (95%), and more often than not are picking up the pieces after it all goes wrong."

Consistently, I find myself smiling during the day, facing the world with all that I have, and at night, sitting in front of the monitor, pondering a journal entry for this evening, with little energy left. All that is left is the repeated repetitive introspection that becomes tiresome, certainly to me, and assuredly to anyone else who may stumble upon it. Events that find me not knowing where to turn for my future, or what to do with myself as I trudge down the city streets, to and from concerts, parties, my sancutary, and meals, leaving my deeper moments for the Internet. Events that catch me up in them, tangled in the web of thoughts that come with the smaller and larger moments, wondering how to be better (and less neglectful) of others.

And again, a sort of encouragement flashes anonymously from the Internet, from a highly scientific site telling me that though I may be discouraged, I am worth approximately $2,188,340.00. Enough to pay my tuition, at least. And maybe buy a slinky or two, before handing the rest to a charity. It's good to feel that I'm worth something... My Mom always said I was priceless... I mean, she has to say that - she's a Mom. But now, the specified medium making use of what is surely a very scientific examination told me that I'm worth more than that. And then, as I closed the window, another opened up, a friend, just to tell me that I matter. And no amount of money can eclipse the feeling of just being told that I matter.

Messages from friends. Some calling to find out how I am, some calling for advice, and some, just to say Hello. And one, again, confessing that he feels lost without me. I never know how to respond to Steven, really. I care about him as a friend, and even more, to want to help him through his oft-brokenness. But at the same time, I cannot respond in kind to his confessions of his passion for me. It's just never been something I've felt for him, and something that's certainly not easy to explain. God knows I know what it's like, though... loving and having the person never know. There is so much confusion in my life sometimes, and so difficult to factor in the explanations to others who depend on me. I care about him... about everyone. Just, not in the way that they want me to sometimes. I'm still learning how to love, and dealing with new aspects of it, and new people, everyday.

"You miss 100 percent of the shots you never take."

But am I ready to start shooting? I have spent so much time waiting to shoot, but knowing that I had never lost the game for the team before. Now, there's not so much team anymore as it is... wanting to win... for me. I'm afraid to shoot, and it may be awhile until I step up to the blue line, but I cannot wait in the box forever.

People talk about Spring Fever as something far different than I find it now. I've likely had every kind of spring affliction one can have, I suppose. Hay Fever, common cold, Heartsickness... each time, it feels different. Sometimes, it manifests itself as uncertainty, for little reason. Wondering if what I have done, the emotional attachments that I make, could even be worth my time. Not that my time is valuable... far from it. Just that, if I were to avoid them, there would be less pain. Invariably, pain comes with all relationships, new or old, ending or lasting. And it's not just me that's afflicted anymore. Spring Fever has hit everyone, touching each person in a different way, and for now, it looks like it's here to stay.

Consider me attemptedly immune.

"I wish I could fly

From this building, from this wall...

And if I should try,

Would you catch me if I fall?"

before | after

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Goodbye... and EFF YOU! - January 14, 2004
This... sucks. - November 30, 2003
High on Life... and hyper as hell. - November 28, 2003
Happy Thanksgiving, not so happy. - November 27, 2003... Thanksgiving Day
100 exciting things about me... hehe,.. not. - November 25, 2003