The Alarmists’ Pinnacle.

The Alarmists’ Pinnacle.

Shortly before Hannah and I broke off all those many moons ago, I had willingly turned my relationship with her into something that I never thought I’d be able to do: an alarmists’ parody. I would wait diligently by the computer for her to come online (sometimes for hours), I would call Coventry and hope to reach her in the early reaches of the morning, and I would continually confess my undying love for her. Repeatedly. On the blog, online, via sms…name it. So, first and foremost, Kex, I am sorry. For being overly “concerned” about the alcohol consumption (though I would pay good money to see you red-faced), about letting in a totally platonic guy friend in at 2 in the morning (and I’m actually being sincere here), and for acting like I didn’t trust you. I know that these are hardly the reasons why you decided that I couldn’t father the unborn children we were meant to have and find a happy ending of our own, but I’m apologizing here anyway because:-

1. It’s so much funnier
   
2. There could be girls reading this and the sincerity might touch them enough to contact me (ladies, my contacts are on the right, yea)
   
3. I’ve seen myself in my own eyes tonight.
   

A certain friend of mine was the prime example of an alarmist tonight. I’ve never really realized that she’s had the same relational issues all the time until just now. It’s been one mean vicious (sickening) cycle. And the worst part is, realizing that you were like that…the whole thing about how you want someone to do right by you is silly. Because you have to do right by yourself. Space and time…? Grant it. For the two of you. Self-inflicting yourself with paranoia and worry and endless, endless self-loathing isn’t the way to go.

It something fucks up, it’s really God’s will. I’m not saying this in a Jehovah’s Witness context, but in all honesty, if you’ve willed something to not work beyond redemption, it’s really your own fucking fault. And there’re three things that you can do.

Leave it alone.

Fix it.

Screw it up further.

I think that we always fall into this pit of despair sometimes when “relationships” don’t go our way. And we fail to realize that endlessly obsessing over our “status” isn’t helping; it’s just making it worst. False worries. Insecurities rising. It’s a pity that we can’t sit back, relax and say “it’s okay” whenever we feel low. And the worst part is knowing that you’re at a low ebb and willing to drive the stake through the heart further in the hopes that you “send a message”. Yes. A message.

That we’re forever indebted to those we propose to love? That we’re willing to push as hard as we can to make it work? I guess that we don’t really have to tell them this; if they really felt for us, they’d already know it. Sometimes no effort is better than too much. Blowing things out of proportion isn’t a great thing. We become cannon fodder for bad jokes. We become conversation topics. We become irritating.

We become the very thing we’d hope not to become: amusement. At our own expense.

We were not born drama queens. Pity, though, that we become them without realizing it. Some of us crave the attention. Some of us want everyone else to know that we’re in need of…need. In retrospect, I feel bad about what I did. The whole obsessive thing isn’t me. Granted, I do obsess over getting the girl. I obsess over what makes me want her. But I don’t want to obsess over what I want when I’m with her, because that’d blind me from what made me want her in the first place. I don’t want to obsess over things like the “status” of a relationship.

I’m a guy. The whole “obsessing” concept is purely, purely a chick thing.

I should worry more about whether she’s wearing the thong I gave her for her birthday. And when she’ll let me see her in it. Well. It wouldn’t be that bad, but…

For fuck’s sake, we should all just lighten up when it comes to this.

I don’t want to be an alarmist anymore. I want to have fun. Clean, wholesome fun. Talk from dawn to dusk. Hold hands and eat ice cream. Snog when no one’s looking. Snog when everyone’s looking. Let her worry about what she wants, because, in the end, I’d know that I’d just really, really dig her and she shouldn’t have to worry in the first place.

(Shucks. I’d love to meet this guy.)

We complicate things. Something between two people should never have to be explained. It should only just happen.

We overplay things. We assume that everyone cares.

We obsess over minor details. The trivial is important, but we forget about the spark that ignited it all.

I believe in love. I believe in chemistry. I also believe that chemistry leads to love. And that love leads to greater things. But I feel sorry for the fact that we’re always willing to do “everything”. We try too hard; thus, we fail.

I’ll try my best to loosen up. I’ll try my best to lighten up. I do not want to act like the chick who reads the self-help relationship guides. We don’t need those. We don’t need to be insecure. Finding someone itself is half the battle won. And having that someone wanting to be with you solves the whole problem.

I’ll try my best never to be at the alarmists’ pinnacle again.