Performing A Void Dance

Avoidance. That pretty much sums up my coping with issues for the past five weeks. It's a little "dance" that I have gained considerable skill in. So I will now write with clarity and intention in the hopes of revealing a new understanding for myself about the topic I have been so diligently dodging. . .

I tried a similar attempt a few weeks ago. It began like this. . .

Indeed, writing this could be an impressive error on my behalf, but I'm OK with making this mistake as I slept for a total of about three hours last night.

Yesterday I took a quiz in one of my classes. Whatever the reason may be, I opened the far back compartment of my backpack which, apparently, I had not zipped open in quite a long time. A stack of notes from Diana emptied, queuing a deluge of memories. I had put some notes in my backpack for the idea, that a part of her was "as physically close to my heart as possible at all times. . ." while at BG. One note in particular practically dropped me to my knees.

"GOOD MORNING!
-hope you slept well. Have a GREAT DAY! I'll Call when I get out of school. (heart) Diana"

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I walked into the classroom. Names were on the tables to assign us our designated seats. Two weeks previous to this, I had visited an art school. Feeling confident in having no confidence about what I wanted to do with my life, art school just seemed like a good idea? So when I went to visit art schools as a highschool junior with no art credit or portfolio they gave some weird looks behind even weirder looking glasses. So I said, "hey! art classes!!!". So here I was sitting at the end of a table, that was connected to other tables, that made a big square border within a big square room. I had no ambition. I had no imagination of my future. I had no expectations. My life wasn't bad. I was not terribly depressed. But I was also unfulfilled.

I was kind of a clown. As you can imagine with basically no real trail to follow I was blazing a path to nowhere. . .

Diana sat two seats away to my right. From the first time I talked to her, I liked her. She was engaging and real. After about a week of school I added her on facebook. One morning before school I wrote on her wall about how quirky our art teacher was. Later that week I forgot to bring a no. 2 pencil to class and Diana let me barrow one of her's. She told me to give it back and I confessed I had no idea where mine was and therefore no intention to return her pencil. She told me that I owed her a picture. The night before the next class, I took about an hour to sketch a rose with charcoal. We started dating soon after. That rose stayed on her wall next to her bed for over two years. I have no idea if it is still there or not.

The more than two years that we dated are a big blur. Anytime I think of my in that compartment of time, Diana is there. Whether I remember taking her coat in the front room of my parents house or knowing I was only five minutes away from seeing her for the first time in three weeks.

I remember looking out the bathroom window of my dorm to see her ride pulling into the parking lot.
I remember opening my eyes in the morning and seeing her face.
I remember purposely irritating her with stupid games like, "hey Diana, hey Diana, hey Diana, hey Diana, hey Diana, hey Diana, hey Diana, hey Diana, hey Diana, hey Diana, hey Diana, hey Diana, hey Diana, hey Diana, hey Diana, hey Diana, hey Diana," until she became so annoyed she would stare me into submission with only "David, stop."

I can't write anymore. I will revisit this topic at a later time.