Friday, 01 May 2009

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  Lost Ones

  
  

  After work last Monday I got in my car, turned the ignition, and fired up my iPod.  The first song to play on the shuffle setting was Lost Ones by Lauryn Hill.  I smirked when I heard it because it seemed like this was another incident in which the Universe was telling me exactly what I needed to hear.  With Lauryn Hill rapping furiously over an aggressively bumpy beat, it’s ostensibly an angry song.  However, that afternoon I wasn’t angry at all, but the song surprisingly still complimented my mood.   The song is called Lost Ones, which might lead you to believe that it’s about “ones” who are “lost.”  But when you listen to the lyrics, the song isn’t about lost, misguided, or misdirected people at all.  Lauryn Hill is vehemently taunting and yelling at someone (allegedly that dork Wyclef Jean) and telling that person that he lost one (allegedly herself).  The dual emotions that this song provokes are probably why I listened to it on repeat for the entirety of my hour-long commute.  On that afternoon, I undoubtedly felt lost, misguided, and hopeless.  But on the other hand, I also felt as if I was the one who wrote Lauryn’s lyrics because I, too, wanted to tell someone that “You might win some but you just lost one.”  I felt a lot of emotions that night because earlier that day my girlfriend broke up with me.

  For those of you who have ever had your hearts broken, you would know the kind of pain that I’ve been experiencing.  It’s the kind of emotional strife that turns into physical suffering.  It begins with an emptiness in the middle of your chest, and that hollowness is filled with a burning sensation that makes it difficult to breathe.  Even though the inside of your chest is warm, the rest of your body is cold, which gives you the chills.  You feeling throwing up, passing gas, and emitting any type of substance out of every orifice on your body.  The burning in your chest isn’t strong enough to make you scream, but it’s just potent enough to make you cry.  The burning simmers and there are only two things that will make it go away:  Time or death.  However, neither of these are desirable options because time takes too long and death has too many systemic side effects.

  That anyone alive can even experience this kind of misery is a distinguishing characteristic between humans and other animals, even though this feeling is completely inhumane.

  I’m lost, even though I’ve been down this road before.  I’ve been through horrible breakups in the past, but this was a new type of breakup for me.  It’s amazing how a new experience can reveal a lot about who you are.  As soon as this went down last Monday, I immediately understood why dorks and losers insist on staying with their abusive significant others.  When you’re in love, forgiveness is easy, no matter how despicable the crime was.  Surprisingly, I wasn’t angry at all at the betrayal.  What was most crushing to me was that the tone in her voice indicated that, in her heart and mind, she had already broken up with me before any act was committed.  I was willing to forgive her, but she never asked for my forgiveness.  She wanted nothing to do with me, and that’s what hurt the most.

  The worst part of being dumped is the feeling of worthlessness that inevitably follows.  Being dumped makes you dangerously self-aware.  You start to highlight all of your flaws and question your self-worth.  For those of you who know me and know what my self-esteem is like, you know that breakups and I are not a good combination.  On Monday I felt remorse and regret.  I started thinking that this was entirely my fault, and none of this would have happened if I was just a better person.  I’ve been told that this was an insane way of thinking.  It would be like a beaten wife convincing herself that she wouldn’t get smacked around if she just cooked the bacon correctly.  How the hell should I know?  I prefer pork links.

  We are influenced by what we have and what we don’t have.  Our identities are shaped by who we let in our lives and who we let go.  Our inner selves are defined by who has touched our souls and who has horribly scarred them.  As much as they are about losing someone, I’ve come to learn that breakups are about finding yourself again.  This is why after work I didn’t go home.  I wanted comfort, so I went to Starbucks.  I don’t understand solace.  I don’t know if I’m sad because I’m someone who got dumped or because I’m a lousy coffee shop philosopher.  I don’t know if there’s even a difference between one and the other.

  I’m lost, but I’m looking to find my way back.

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