Word Vomit

So. Let’s review, shall we? I’ve been a trucker for about six months now. Life on that front isn’t bad. I’ve had a ton of teammates, some good, some bad, one great dude that’s a good friend now. I’ve been to 44 of the contiguous United States. I’ve been home twice, and once was to make myself officially homeless. Part of the reason I set out on this adventure was for a little introspection and reflection. I’ve realized that grad school as a musicology major isn’t for me. I honestly believe that the whole “publish or perish” nonsense is horrible for schools, at least in the area of musicology. I want to learn. I want to be taught information. I don’t want to figure out how to think critically about fourteenth-century French music. When I first began at TTU, I was under the mistaken impression that I was going to learn everything about music history and then I could go teach music history. That’s mostly my fault for not doing my research. So combine that with the fact that I managed to make an enemy among the faculty (that’s not hyperbole, either. I messed up and he threatened to sue me) and I don’t believe the TTU musicology department is for me. I don’t know what to do with my life. My dreams are currently in the form of three paths. Pub owner is my ultimate goal in life. I want to own a horse ranch. I really want to raise draft horses. Or I want to be a high school history teacher. Is any of that truly realistic, though? Is anything truly realistic anymore? Let’s look at my life. I have a degree in music that would take two years to turn into a music ed degree….or at least one I’d be comfortable with. I have about 3/4 of a master’s degree in musicology that I don’t intend to finish. I’m horribly overweight. I’m broke. Not just broke. I’m almost $100,000 in debt with nothing to show for it. I managed to fall in love with a woman that is completely unavailable. Talk about toxicity. It’s like an addiction. She makes me feel so wonderful about myself. She’s all the good things, and she thinks I’m all the good things. But she’s not single. Not just “not single,” she’ll never leave him. She told me as much. So what in the ever-loving fuck am I supposed to do? Everyone tells me I should break it off. I’m sure you’re thinking the same thing, imaginary internet person. But here’s the thing. I can’t. I’m too far in. She keeps talking about a life we could have together. She tells me how much she can’t wait to see me, and how she just wants to leap into my arms and kiss me. What is going on? Is she being cruel? She would never be cruel on purpose. I promise. But is that what’s happening? I’ve been engaged a lot, and I tend to fall in love at the drop of a hat, but I’ve never felt like this. Not just the depth of my feelings, but the confidence and strength she’s given me. She tells me how much she loves everything about me–my singing voice, my tattoos, even the fact that I’m a big guy. It feels so good to have someone say those things about me that I don’t ever want to go back to a time when people tell me to go off myself for being too fat, or that I’ll never be able to find a woman because of who I am as a person. She loves the things about me that I’ve always considered weaknesses, and she positively adores the things that I’ve always secretly been proud of. What should I do? I am simultaneously more in love than I’ve ever been and more broken-hearted than I’ve ever been, and it’s slowly killing me. On one hand, she calls me “my love” and tells me things that melt my heart. On the other hand, here’s a picture of her and her boyfriend playing in the snow together. How in the fuck did I manage to get myself into this? Maybe my life-long motto of “Fuck it, let’s see what happens” isn’t as great for a lovelife. I just don’t know. 

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