Sunday, September 14, 2008

Une nouvelle vie commence

That means "A new life begins," and it's what my mom's cousin wrote to me on the day I was moving from my old apartment to my new apartment. It was one of those moments where life feels like a novel or a movie, like a well-made play actually, where something that seems staged actually happens.
Quickly, the nouvelle vie took a turn I didn't expect, or had expected I guess--there's nothing stopping all the hopes I had for this fall, but the nouvelle vie feels much emptier than I'd like. I guess the only thing that has changed since Sunday two weeks ago is my own mindset and outlook.
I have written over and over again how I mourn my old life, my old home, specifically where I was a year ago--before we were cognizant of what a dump the house was, before the things that made it a dump actually infringed upon our happiness, and before some of the other things that made me happy started to disappear.
A year ago, I was happy there. But thirteen months ago, things were still shaky. Some days, something really great would happen, and it was like I was seeing into the happy future I would have there, and I was perfectly happy. Other days, something small would happen, like some plans got canceled, or no one would be at home, and it would expand into not just one evening of loneliness but an entire year or lifetime of loneliness. It was as though my mind was extrapolating that this one evening of loneliness indicated that the whole year would be that way. Because I couldn't see what happy things would fall into place, what people would be in my life, it was like no one was there, and instead of just taking one night in by myself, I would be very sad.

I guess this description is really fitting for where I am now. I'm trying not to write about it, I realized--trying to focus on the positive, not proclaim to the Internets and the world as a whole that I am human and weak and feel sad even when there's no real reason to; I also don't want to seem like a brat, ungrateful for the good job and nice apartment I have now. But this is it--the nouvelle vie is uncertain, and sometimes I have trouble imagining what good could come into it. Some part of my head or heart that won't listen to reason believes that because I can't see it--whatever these goods things will be--they don't exist and never will.

And then, when something good is happening, I am my old self and everything's fine.

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