I apologize for the overly sentimental poem below - blame introspection and late nights. I think I will let it stay, though. I still kinda like it, whether or not I would have posted it if I thought anyone was reading this.
The topic of relationships and break ups and all the messiness that goes along with loving someone has been on my mind a lot lately. It's one of those classic questions - what brings people together, what makes them stay together, and what can tear them apart, when it seems like they suit so well?
A friend of mine got dumped by his girlfriend of over three years recently. I shouldn't say dumped, because I don't like to think of it that way - rather as the probably inevitable parting of people who were about to live a seven hour drive from each other. She will be going to McGill in the fall (and we shouldn't hate her just for that, jealousy is not attractive) and the prospect of a long distance relationship can really make a person question how strong the bond is that holds them to their significant other. I myself, living in a residence environment last year, saw over ten really strong relationships at the beginning of the year turn into two or three. And those two or three, it seems to me, could only survive because of either a ton of hard work, dedication and faith from both parties, or because at least one of them is a doormat.
Even as a person whose boyfriend was only a 40 minute walk away, I definitely felt a strain and an adjustment in our relationship. So much is new, that first year of university. You're thrust into so many new situations, you meet so many new people, and you are faced, as a person in a relationship, with so many new temptations. Late night study parties and late night drinking fests alike can lead to actions you will regret (or not) in the morning, and I have been nothing but thankful that Duncan and I have stayed strong, and, I think, had a little of our "new couple" arrogance beat out of us in the process.
But what, in the end, makes a couple last? I'll let you know as soon as I know for sure, but I think what you need to have is a combination of real friendship, real trust, and, most importantly, a real desire to be in a relationship at such a young age. I know a boy whose parents really thought that, instead of having a girlfriend during his first year of university, he should be single, so that he could properly enjoy being young. So that he had no commitments except the ones put on him by school and work. And there is a lot of sense in that thought! Isn't this the time in our lives when we're supposed to be absolutely selfish? I mean, before we know it, we'll have whole new responsibilites, be it marriage or children or full time jobs and home ownership. Now is the time when we can really play with our lives, experiment, and figure out who we are. Of course, for me, this sounds horribly undesirable, and I would rather discover who I am along with someone who's discovering himself at the same time (two for the price of one?).
But you have to wonder...are we too young to be spending so much of our lives on other people?

Where have you gone from me
O lover mine
What gave you cause to stray
I have searched in all
Your usual
Hiding places.

And when you're gone from me
Oh darling one
Where do you go
What do you find there
That gives you more
Than me.

I look for you
Search for you
Wanting so to be beside you
as I once was
To feel your skin
Against mine

For rooms are darker
Evenings longer
When you do not add
Your light
And life

What can I do
O angel one
To bring you back to me
I change myself
Rearrange my life
Asking only
to be with you.

You've gone from me
O one I want
I feel
And fear
You'll not return.

Uh-oh...

I am feeling very existential.

Nostalgia

You know how, when you were 16 years old, you had a blog? Don't lie, because you did. Everyone did, at that age. And we all thought we were soooo super cool, and that we totally had things to say that the whole world needed to know about.

If you have a blog now, and are feeling insulted, bear with me. I think I am going somewhere with this.

My point (and I do have one) is that rereading old blog entries, whether you wrote them or your BFF of the time did is an embarrassing and enlightening experience. I started reading my old xanga account tonight, and it was pretty painful. But it was also kinda fun. I can still look at all of those entries, and know exactly what was going on at the time - most of them had to do with a certain guy who is, thank goodness, out of my life now. But they also had to do with my friends of the time, my enemies of the time, my hopes and dreams and insecurities and little egoisms. I remember who was really important to me back in high school, and I smile over all the things we did. It's the kind of read that makes you go to your MSN list and re-add certain people, or go on a Facebook stalk of different people than usual. I had some really great adventures with people I don't even talk to anymore, and while some of these people have been nixed for good reason, there are others that I genuinely miss. I should look some of them up, maybe.

But what is really great about the old blog entries, and a reason that I don't think I will ever purge myself of all those old musings, is that it's such a great snapshot of me at a certain age. I like to think I've improved. I like to think that I handle things better now, with more tact and more grace. There were a lot of facepalm moments, as I read my thoughts and the comments of others (again, usually associated with that same guy), and I like to believe that when I re-read this blog a few years from now, there won't be quite as many. It's tangible proof that I am moving forward, instead of backward. And that is a really nice thing to know!

In other news, I am a muddle and a stew of mixed feelings right now. In less than a week I will be leaving the Familial Home in Turner Valley and journeying back to Toronto, to start a new year of school in a new apartment and (hopefully) with a new job. Things are a changin' and they're doin' it mighty quick like. And on the one hand, I am SO EXCITED. I am so thrilled to be going back to somewhere that challenges me daily, to somewhere that gives me legitimate reasons to stay up until 2:30. And there are Ikea trips to look forward to, an apartment to decorate, and a boy to cuddle up to who I have definitely missed this past week.

But on the OTHER hand, I am leaving the familial home for another year, and possibly longer, now that I have a lease to take care of. And that kinda sucks. It feels, in a weird way, that this is me really moving out. Even though it's technically my third time doing it. But the first apartment was only for about six months, and in res I was homeless except for out here during all the major holidays. This somehow feels much more grown up. Maybe it's the fact that I'm really really moving in with Duncan - no Aiden buffer to make us all "roommates". Nope, this is me moving in with and living with (for real) an icky, smelly boy. A boy that I love very much, but hey, it's still scary! And I will miss my family, of course. You never appreciate your parents more than when it's November, you have an essay due, you have a horrible cold in your nose and no money to go buy decongestants. Being here this summer has been such a relief, and such a lovely break. And while I am so excited to move on to the next stage of my life, I will miss the comfort and the companionship and the chicken soup that I can get here.

It's all very scary, guys...