So it goes, and so it is

We put people in the roles we think they should play. Like unlike puzzle pieces rammed into the wrong spots. Why? I can not tell you. Maybe as a matter of convenience; right place right time. Dove tailing interests? Clicking over coffee; liking the same band; having the same opinions on public figures. Maybe it’s those looks someone gives us that we think mean something. You know those looks. In parking lots at 3 am. Smiling at your sneakers, biting your lips, and looking up at someone you think is going to fit the role just perfectly. You overlook all the flaws and grasp onto all of their potential. You build them up in your mind. You build them up in their own mind. You make them believe with all your encouraging that they can do anything. You make them believe they’re worthy of your affection. You give them wings then get so sad when they choose to fly away. Always onto bigger and better. Or shall we say smaller and blonder. For a long time I lived my life with my whole heart. Everything I did and said I did out of love. I was never the one to play games or be reckless with someone else’s heart. I cared so much about the people in my life. I lived to make them happy. Sometimes I feel pathetic about the whole thing, but honestly I was happier with myself then. After a while of trying to so hard to prove to someone that they should give in and love you back, it makes you tired. It makes you cold. And it makes you feel hopeless. So I started trying to take other people’s advice. I listened to my friends’ endless suggestions about how to catch em and keep em. Like fishing. The bait and hook. It was all really nauseating. The games people play with each other to not get hurt. To always have the upper hand, and to never let the other one think you care for them more than they might care for you. But in all reality you can only play perfect for so long before the pieces of yourself start showing. And if you “catch” someone with such tricks you never really had them. Somewhere along the way I’ve gotten colder. And it sort of scares me. Not caring anymore is weird. Last week I got really upset, and with good reason. I cried my eyes out and didn’t sleep. But then it all went away. By then end of the next day I realized I just didn’t care enough to be upset. I wasn’t mad or anything. I felt absolutely nothing. I just laughed with a friend about it. This is so not like me. Some people are proud of me for handling things so well. For being so mature. For being so rational and logical. All things I rarely am. It has me thinking that something’s wrong. That all the years of bullshit, and allowing myself to be fucked with by any man who cared to mess with me have finally taken their toll. Maybe the universe has succeeded, at least for the time being, at toughening me up. I don’t know at this time what I’d prefer, being the girl who feels everything so strongly, or being the girl who feels nothing at all. I guess I don’t know because I don’t care to know. I just don’t care. I was talking with a friend about how I feel like people are never ready for the same things at the same time. We're all a bunch of lines that cross each other's paths at the wrong times and places. We veer in and out of each other’s paths so inconveniently. When we want someone they don’t want us. And when they finally want us we don’t want them anymore. Peculiar perpendicularity. It’s all part of growing up I suppose. I just often wonder if I’m growing differently than everyone around me. Maybe for the better.