Crunchwrap Supreme for the Soul

Once (before I was a vegetarian) I asked a friend for a good substitute for love and personal fulfilment. They told me that I should drive over to Taco Bell and buy one of their Crunchwrap Supremes.

I did that, and it was pretty good, but it did not soothe the ache that was manifesting in the pit of my chest.

Two things have always struck me as odd: one, that heartache (/heartbreak) actually hurts your chest. When I was heart broken the first time, it felt like someone was sitting on my chest and refusing to get off. It was hard to breathe, it was hard to think, it was hard to be. Two, now that I’ve felt heart broken about 49 more times after the first, and this time the magnitude is exponentially greater, the feeling has transformed into more of a physical longing rather than merely physical pain.

I think the exponential factor comes from a multitude of things: proximity to the situation, the coupling of other situations, lack of sleep, lack of food, anxiety, multiple existential crises – the works. Usually when someone refers to “the works”, they’re usually ordering a fully-loaded hot dog or something. For me, “the works” is a fully-loaded mental breakdown! Not as yummy as a Crunchwrap Supreme, but it’s the reality of things right now.

This blog started off as a place to extrapolate feelings of anxiety in conjunction to a relationship I was in. And I’m happy I didn’t have to write anything of this nature before today, but I think it’s good to take a step back and allow myself the space the think and grow.

Last night I spent three hours awake in my bed (after I was supposed to fall asleep), scrolling through social media, and wondering what the fuck is wrong with me. Social media does that to you, I think. It’s best not to meander the pages of the web when you’re feeling like the world will end. I saw images of people with their friends, and family, and partners, and felt devastated that I wasn’t going to spend my thanksgiving with anybody important to me. I cried, obviously, because it’s the only thing I’ve done since Friday, and tried to compensate for this by telling myself that I’m loved and that I have people in my life that care about me, etc., etc.

But it’s hard to tell yourself that when only a handful of people say it, and even fewer people show it.

I once heard that you should let go of heart ache once I love you‘s start sounding like apologies. I’m trying to think of what this sounds like. I’m trying to think of whether I’ve done this or not. I’m trying to think about what I’m sorry‘s should sound like. I don’t know the answer to any of those questions. I don’t like not knowing things. I don’t like being dishonest with myself. I don’t like feeling like the black hole I felt like at the beginning of the year. I keep digging deeper holes for myself, and they end up being voids that suck me in until I can’t see light anymore.

Love and longing are consuming – they consume your time and your energy, but they shouldn’t consume your happiness. Should they? I don’t know. I’ve moved past the stage where unhappiness is romanticized, but I still find myself creating scenarios in which I’m always forgiving and always forgetting and always alone. They say that suffering originates from cravings and desires, but I don’t think I’ve suffered this much when I’ve wanted a Crunchwrap Supreme.

This is all absurd. I feel like a little kid when I beat around the bush like this and trying to make light of the situation by fucking talking about the most mediocre thing on a Taco Bell menu. I feel lonely and I am alone. I’m stressed out. I’m a mess. I don’t know how to handle everything that’s going on, both in my head and in my life. How do I tell the one person I want to talk to that I wish that it was easier to push everything away, if I could even do that? I’m devastated because I feel like if I lose this I’ll only ever have memories to cling onto for the rest of my life.

Part of me wants to stop being hard-headed and strong-willed and instead be complacent. This would require me to drop my values for the sake of others, which I’ve never been okay with, but if it would stop this immense pain perhaps it’d be worth it. I could just continue to pray that a boulder comes falling down from the sky and squishes me while I’m asleep. The other alternative is to have those values contribute to the fact that no one wants to be around me. Either way, I’ll feel like there’s not much else to look forward to because I’m either fooling myself, or an awful companion that nobody wants to be around.

I’m at work right now, and I’m watching people pass in and out and telling me I look tired and sick, but the reality is that my anxiety is so bad that I haven’t slept in 2 days. But they still wish me a happy thanksgiving and I wish I could stop them and tell them exactly why I’m never going to feel happy!!! I wish I could tell them that I’m going through heart break and not have people laugh at me!!! I wish I could tell them that the one person I felt closest to doesn’t love me and will never love me!!! I wish I could tell myself that I’ve gotten through worse all by myself and I don’t need anybody else to help me get through stuff but that’s a huge lie!!!

Sometimes telling strangers all the details about your life is less scary than telling someone you care about the truth. Who cares if they judge? They’ll never see me again, and frankly it doesn’t matter what they think of me. But when I talk to the people close to me, I feel like an insect being burned alive by the ray of light refracted through a magnifying glass – under scrutiny and without any remorse.

The title of this post is light and funny. But it turned into something that is not. I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you because I assume you wanted to hear about something light. Nothing in my life has been light, and I fear it will stay like that.

Three cheers to Crunchwrap Supremes, I guess. Not that I can eat them, because they’re not vegetarian. Alas.

Featured Image: Crunchwrap Supreme by jeepers media on Flickr.


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Self-proclaimed jack-of-all-trades. Intersectional feminist. Educator/linguist in training. Fashionista, food-lover, and fairly poor hand-eye coordination.

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