Paint it black

There I was, minding my own business, doing my thang, playing with my paints and brushes as I sometimes do. I didn't even think about it much. I was painting the last pieces of furniture I had left into my favorite furniture-color = black, and chatting with my flatmate. But then she stopped my train of thoughts by asking why do I have the need to paint. She also suggested that there might be more to it because I'm painting things black. Every once in a while I get the deep need to change the way I live in a very literal sense. I move, I rearrange my furniture, I paint. I didn't have an answer for her, I don't know why I have the need to surround myself with black in the middle of the summer. And I can tell it's summer because I'm peeling skin off of my burned back as we speak. But it's not like I was baking or cleaning! Few days later I had done the dishes three times, cooked couple of times, vacuumed and washed the floors and whatnot. Oh crap, this was getting serious.

So I started to think and you all know how dangerous thinking is. All this obviously have something to do with worrying about a friend of mine who got bad news. I feel like I'm again left standing there helplessly because I have no idea what to do and I don't want to make the same mistakes as I have done with other friends when they've needed a friend. The only problem is that everyone has their own way of dealing with things so what I did wrong earlier might be the right thing to do now and vice versa. Still I'm determined to yell, hold out signs, scream and hug forcefully or whatever is needed to make sure that my friends know that I'm there for them and I think about them. And whenever they need, I'll be there to tell them that sometimes it's okay to not be okay. Though I'm well aware that there's nothing I can do if the other person doesn't want me to. Ask yourself when's the last time you called someone and said "I feel like shit, could you come over?". My final plan, if nothing else works, is to send nudes to this guy to get him occupied with other things than grief. Think that would work?

I think from time to time we all have the need to turn our gaze inside and just be with ourselves. And I don't necessarily mean a pain that paralyses you. It can be finding focus and motivation in you when the outside world gets too loud. (This is one of those times it's not wise ask me how I'm doing because you only get a long answer with metaphor filled sentences about drowning and falling and... well, just read on and you'll understand.) When I hide inside the dark end of my mind-cave, I think about love. It's my favorite subject. We live in society filled with Disney and romantic comedies, where it's emphasised that true love awaits. I'm glad I watched those because they thought me that there is something magical out there and I'm worth happiness no matter how quirky I am. On the other hand I regret ever watching any of those because time has passed and it still hasn't happened.

I watched How I Met Your Mother from start to the end finally. Watching shows like that always makes me wonder which character would I be. First I thought I'd be like Lily, a bad-ass who devotes her life to long-lasting love and friends. Then I thought I might be a softer version of Barney, awesome of course but a heart-breaker with a consciousness. But then came the episode where Ted asked an important question: "what's wrong with me?" and I realised that the most I resemble him. Fudge. How many times I've thought to myself what's wrong with me, why hasn't it happened? I'm back to the Beauty and the Beast -scenario thinking I'm the problem. But this time with a twist.

When I complained about my love life to Juju she pointed out that maybe my heart isn't open for love and I gotta say that thought has crossed my mind before. Maybe I've met the love of my life already but I somehow have blocked the gates to my heart and never even gave a real chance to that person. Maybe I'm already so broken that no amount of glue can patch up my shattered heart. Maybe the only thing open really is the candy store. I also think I'm spoiled by my past good relationships to have my hopes up high for the everyday life. But the fairy tales have taught me never to lose hope.

The problem with most of the TV shows and movies from my childhood to this point in life is that there's the happily ever after. Monica marries Chandler and even though they can't have kids, they adopt not just one kid but twins. It's implemented that Ted gets not one, but two love of his life and even Barney finds the true meaning of love. Booth dates Bones. Nanny marries Mr. Sheffield. That guy wasn't hit by a car after all. This chick woke up from coma. Even the freaking Donkey falls in love! And it's mutual! Same happens in the books on my shelf. Playing video games would've been much safer because the princess was always in another castle.

I don't know if I'll ever meet the One True Love, the Love Of My Life, the Knight In Shining Pink Armor. I believe in it less and less everyday but still I'm clinging on to some faint hope - I don't believe in it, but I hope it's true. Searching for it gets easier and worse at the same time. Dating is easier now than it was couple of years ago and I think I know more of what I want in a significant other. Also telling the other person that they are not that is easier now than it was before. Meaning that the words come out easier but it feels horrible every time a little more. Making a shatter in your heart or self-esteem or whatever it is that rejection wounds, makes a wound in me too. I never meant to hurt you. You were supposed to be the One. But you are not, I'm sorry.

They say girls shouldn't expect a prince if they are not princess' themselves, but I'm nothing but a princess. Think about it, semirough childhood, pretty when fixed up, whimsical and stubborn, good with animals, scared of the unknown but curious about it, romantic yet brave and old-fashioned. All I need is a weird sidekick. I even have an evil stepmother. So where the hell is my prince?!

You can read more about the evil "media" and "society" for example from Glamour (Though I disagree with the cutlery aspect. I think it's more a lesson of not judging a book or a candlestick by it's cover), from Brandeis (2 pages and even though I agree with the problem I think the solution could also be teaching kids media criticality), or from Michigan News (I don't watch The Bachelor, btw).