Human is Too Complicated

I haven't written any poetry these past couple days. I was busy. I did things with friends. Lots of things. I crammed my days off with every activity imaginable. It was fun, but exhausting. I don't know if social activities will never not be exhausting.

I have a friend who is moving away. We did a lot together. I have more free time now that I'm working instead of working, going to school, doing homework, managing clubs, etc. I miss the library at school. I miss sitting in my chair at the technology help desk and laughing with my family. I miss free periods spent ignoring homework and chatting with everyone. The tech department help desk acted as a hallway between all the offices for the department staff, so each time someone would walk by, they'd join in the conversation or start a new one. We played card games. They let me set-up my espresso machine in their kitchenette, so I always had access to fresh hot chocolate or warm lattes, and would sometimes make them for others.

I wanna write a poem about this, but it never comes. I never start writing a poem because I want to. When I write, it's because I'm compelled. My divining rod poetry. Words bump around in my head until they solidify into the correct formations. Then I write. I'm drawn to any scrap of paper, to the shattered screen of my phone (I've been procrastinating getting a phone case for a year). I am simply complicit in my brain's quest to commit emotional processing to print.

I want to write a poem about happy things. I want to solidify my happiest moments in ink. But I can't. When I force my poetry, I can feel it. Each sentence curves unnaturally over my tongue. It tastes bitter, like soured espresso. When I wrote Roadkill, I didn't have to think. Every poem wrote itself. I was a broken fire hydrant of poetry. With Death of the Abstract Artist, it is more intentional. Sometimes I have to tell myself that I need to write about something. It's a good sign, I guess. Poetry is my way of processing emotions, so if I don't feel compelled to write a lot, I'm in a better place.

What is a better place?

I look at friend groups with envy. I see people my age with tight-knit circles of friends. People they do everything with. Where hang-outs are casual, only "I'm in the driveway" notice. Spontaneous sleepovers. I don't have that. I've never had that. I think my friends have had that without me. Last year, I was booted out of my friend group when I found out I was the only person never invited to hang-outs, sleepovers, birthday parties, dances, etc. Maybe that's why I've always made friends with adults. There's that maturity aspect, of course, that older friends won't engage in teenage stupidity. But also there's a safety in knowing what the expectations are. Obviously, I won't be invited to stuff because they're doing adult things and I'm doing kid things. I don't have to worry about the how or why.

I want true friendship. I want no-pressure events. I want to be me without overthinking everything, without worrying that them going home early means I screwed everything up. That if I was too tired to be entertaining one time it doesn't mean they'll never want to be around me again.

I don't know if there's anyone who can put up with me in such large quantities. I don't think I'm destined for that kind of happiness (I don't believe in destiny, but you get the idea). Maybe I'm not fun to hang out with. My social battery is extremely limited, so at some point I'm sure I'm even more boring to be around. I try to be polite, accommodating. I try to be the kind of person people want to be around. This is more of a rant than anything substantial. I'll probably write a few poems about it. Maybe one of them will be good enough to share.

I want someone to invite me out. I could obviously be the one to ask, but that opens me up for rejection and I don't think I can unpack that right now. The person I want to really hang out with invited me last time, so I guess social norms say I'm supposed to invite her out next. I want to invite her to the correct thing, but I don't know what that is. What if she decided after those last couple times that I'm actually not fun to be around and she says no? I feel like there's a correct way I'm supposed to do all this, but I don't know how. Any friendship is weird and precarious at this point. People don't want to get too close to me because I'm leaving for college soon. I get it. It's hard to want to make room in your life for someone who's gonna leave soon. It still sucks.

That's the thing about understanding. Even if you understand something, that doesn't stop it from hurting.

Sometimes human is too complicated.

               - Sunni Usagi-Koi