The Patient Sikh: Part Twenty-Seven--Studying Life
So there is a part of me that thinks what I should do is call Sonny and tell him I cannot help him with his term paper and I cannot ever speak to him again. But of course, the truth is, I’m trying to finish my papers first so that I have time to help him on his. And of course, I’m also sitting here waiting for him to call me with the details of meeting up.
Sarita is sitting next to me at some random library on campus that I’ve never been to before. She shakes her head at me, for the umpteenth time. “You cannot help Sonny write his paper, I will physically stop you from doing it if I have to.”
I know she’s right and I can’t look her in the eye. I told her the whole story and of course, she was shocked that he wanted me to write his paper for him. She wasn’t even impressed that I said no to that, she was just so upset that he asked. But she said I should have taken money from him when he offered it.
I don’t want money from him, I don’t even know if I want love from him. I think I just want attention from him. I like him looking at me the way he does. I like his touch, I feel like I need affection. I want him to hold me, just hold me and I want for it to not really be sexual in nature. But that’s not what him and I have.
What we have is bullshit.
“I think I’m addicted to him or something. I get this euphoria when I think about him or when I’m around him,” I say to Sarita who is solving a Calculus problem.
“You need to detox, stay away from him,” she said without looking up from her problem.
I played with my pen and stared into space. The walls were yellow and the tables were blue. Very Michigan of them to decorate the library with the school colors, but it looked like it was just left over seventies decor and not intentional at all.
“I want to say no to him but there is a part of me that thinks there is nothing else in life that’s good for me. That he is the only good thing,” I said and put the cap of the blue pen in my mouth. I wondered how dirty it was and then spit it out.
“He is not a good thing,” Sarita said and finally looked up at me, as some drool slipped down my chin after spitting out the pen cap.
“What else is there, what else do I have?”
“Why do you think you deserve good things?” she asked and stared at me hard.
“I think everyone does,” I said and blinked my eyes, trying to avoid her stare.
“That’s where you are so wrong. Life is not a gift and no one owes you anything. There are no promises that come with this gig. It just is what it is,” Sarita said and adjusted her glasses.
“I've been alive for eighteen years now, I expect more out of this than I’m getting,” I responded and put the pen cap back in my mouth.
“Don’t expect anything, then maybe you’ll appreciate what you have,” Sarita said, shuffling through her backpack looking for something. I remember when we were in middle school and she showed me these drawings of butterflies with daggers cut through them and blood dripping from them. She didn’t understand why I was weirded out by that. I don’t understand why she’s weirded out by the fact that I would do anything for a douche bag dude because I have no self-worth.
Is it a sign of self-esteem to realize you have no self-esteem? I watched this movie the other day and a drug addict said someone asked him what his problem was and he said alcoholism and drug addiction. The guy said no, that’s how you cope with your problem, what’s your real problem?
What’s my problem?
I think I am my own problem.
Maybe having dysfunctional relationships is how I deal with the fact that my family is dysfunctional. I know there is a reason I am attracted to a jerk, my dad has become a jerk. I’m sure I just have some father complex. But it’s more than that, there is something essential that I’m missing inside me and I don’t know what it is.
Why would I let someone treat me like this? Because I don’t know if I know what it’s like to be treated well. If I know all of this, why can’t I let Sonny go? Maybe the same reason I can’t let my dad go. I still love my dad even though he is a complete drunk. Maybe I love Sonny even though he’s a complete asshole.
I say maybe because this doesn’t feel right. This doesn’t feel like that love I’ve been waiting my whole life for. This doesn’t feel true. Why does my mom still love my dad? Why doesn’t she just walk away and show me how it’s done? I don’t know how to do this.
There are two of me. One me knows that I can do better, that I deserve better. The other part of me thinks Sonny is the best that I can do. That this life is the best that I deserve. That it won’t get any better and I don’t deserve it to.
I think I’m too young to settle. But I think I’m too old to care.
nina