Virtue and Wine
So here it is. 12:00 AM Eastern, January 1st, 2006. I have been 18 years old for five days. In that time, the novelty has worn off somewhat and I no longer feel the need to eulogize on the tragedy that is the coming of age and the futilty of searching for love in a graceless time. Or anytime for that matter, because looking for love in the all the wrong places is a tendency, nay, a prerogative, of a young woman. She is, as I am, as you are. We are all the same. The sentiments we express are unoriginal and jaded and sad. Such is the way it has been, and such is the way it will always be.
Still, I can't help but feel a twinge of regret. The high of New York has faded, and now I feel like I should have either stayed in that city of angels, or taken the boy's hand and jumped on that bus to DC. But then what? More endless nights of bloodshot eyes and cheap liquor, passing out at the crack of dawn and feeling scrubbed raw the next day despite not having showered? The boy is amusing and his attentions are understandably flattering, but then there is also the other boy whom I can't bring myself to face. There was a reason I ran out of New York without saying a proper goodbye, and it wasn't because I wanted to make the early train. One option was to beg shelter from Dương, but much as I love her, much as I wish to see her, living in her home brings back memories of different times. They are memories of warmth, and I've been cold for so long I'm not sure that would be a good idea. Falling back into that life could be dangerous, especially when I know it could never again be. Better leave that mass of pouring quicksands be.
So here I am, at the beginning of the new year, with a crystal glass of red wine, and Virginia Woolf. I wouldn't be drinking alone if I didn't know that it'd take much more than red wine, hell, any wine to make me drunk. So much baggage, and she thinks New Year resolutions are going to help? No resolutions. Just regrets. I regret letting Đức down. I know he counted on me to get those essays done, but honestly, sometimes he forgets that, as with most important things in my life, I just don't care that much. I'd let it all go if I could; that's how tired I feel sometimes. I regret lying to Vũ about his Russia essay. I can make it better, of course I can, but again, I just let it slide in favor of not creating more work for myself. I regret not calling BT, though technically I have three more hours in which to deliberate. And here I am chuckling into my wine glass, because I can be such a hypocrite sometimes. 'Christmas is a time for rest?' Like my highly restful Yuletide vacation?
Now the bubbly buzz is on, and I feel more prepared to break out the big guns. How long has it been since I talked to Giang? Why, I don't know, it's been so long and I'm honestly scared to even think about it. She is so broken sometimes, and I'm a little broken myself, and scared of the facts, and I shudder to think that should I reach out to her, she will just pull me under. And that, my friends, is why I am such a horrible friend, and a horrible person. That is also why I can't let the bone drop between me and Toàn, even though the stupid game of Crash/Push we have going has gone on quite long enough, and it makes me ill just to even think about it, because, ****, what the hell is our problem? And this in turns makes me feel guilty for being jealous of Dương, because of the all the disfunctional 18-year-olds playing the game of love, she is the only one who deserves it. And she has it. Which is right. And fucked-up, because the world is never right.
So me. That thing with Carlos? I ruined that. Because I couldn't have stayed the girl I was (brilliant, quiet, dogmatic, and anime-loving). Because he couldn't bring himself down to my level and play the game of liquor and marijuana, controlled-hysteria and intentional amnesia. Because freshman year in college is supposed to be fun, except it isn't, and it's mostly sad. Like life. Like Carlos. And that scares the shit out of me, because I cannot go back, I refuse to let monomania swallows me whole (I'd much rather we had a working relationship, that monomaniac). In a way, the substances and the madness and the boys make up for the fact that I am, essentially, a lonely creature of immense self-destructive capability. And that, my friends, really really bites
Well, if there's one thing I've learned to do, it is to count my losses. I liked Carlos, but I couldn't have him, so I'm going to have everyone else. I loved Toàn, and now I can't remember why; surely there was more to the bastard than his uncanny ability to get under my skin and make me want to jump out windows. I love BT, Giang, Dương, Vũ, Đức, and all the rest of them from teh other life that I always look back to, even though I hated every moment of it when I was actually living it. I am mildly fond of the boy and the crazy, brilliant people whom I've met here in this strange land. I love my family, though they don't see fit to call or write, except to tell me that if I plan to use the credit card, I have to tell them in advance. I hate and love myself, but that is only to be expected. Happy New Year.
2006. Wine. Sondre Lerche. And Virginia Woolf.
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