2/14/26 - 2/16/26: Orangutan compassion
2/14/26
The internet: “When two people are truly meant to be together, nothing can keep them apart forever.”
I’m a romantic at heart, so I do believe this. Does it make me a naive moron to be this optimistic about love? I don’t know. Maybe. To balance it out, I also have a voice in my head that tells me I’m going to be alone forever.
Sometimes I truly think I’d prefer to be a gibbon. Have you seen how they frolic? The beauty and grace of a gibbon is unparalleled. Added bonus: they don’t have email or spend time deleting emails or are constantly told they’re out of email storage.
I made my first batch of meatballs last night. They were more like meat chunks. Or, rather, various-sized meat crumbles. I’m proud of my imperfect meatballs. I was thinking how if a bunch of people got together for a meat-based potluck and all sat around and ate meat together it’d be called a meat meet-up.
The internet again: “The real reason most people stay in unhappy relationships often boils down to fear: fear of being alone, fear of change, or fear of the unknown. People sometimes stay because they feel stuck, or they’ve invested so much emotionally that they’re reluctant to let go.” I remember the moment I decided to really, finally let go of my ex after years of being too cowardly to leave him. It was this quiet, decisive moment in my body, and I just suddenly knew. After seven years, it was actually over. After being so dedicated to loving and being supportive to someone who was emotionally abusive to me, I couldn’t tolerate it any longer. It didn’t even feel like a choice to end it, more like a breaking point. I wonder if I’ll ever get to share this kind of love and support with someone who is my true beloved and not a raging asshole. And to experience that kind of love and support in return, as well? I can hardly imagine.
And yes, I’ve started using the word beloved. As in, “where art thou my beloved? Doth I wait much longer for you to bequeath your love to me? I promise I shall, too, bequeath mine wholeheartedly to you, my beloved bawcock!” I’m in the kitchen making coffee by myself saying this out loud in my fancy-pants/British-adjacent voice.
It’s 4 a.m. and my brain is going over and over certain thoughts like a rock tumbler that won’t quit. I have a friend meetup today. We’re getting ice cream and possibly walking over to the cemetery. And this is honestly the best way I can think of to spend Valentine’s Day. I can remind myself that I won’t have to look for love forever and feel like I’m never going to find it because eventually I’ll be dead. “Yay!” I say in a morbidly sarcastic tone.
4:20 a.m.:
“I’m too high to dance” is being sung from a lone car’s stereo loudly out the window.
4:29 a.m.:
They say sleep is healthy for you so I should probably get back to it now. But how?
The friend bailed on me. They said they had a difficult week and didn’t feel up to it.
In the very beginning of the book I’m reading the author mentions a “long fetch”, which is the distance between where an ocean wave begins, all the way to its point of arrival.
2/16/26