This is where it gets scary.
When I woke up this morning (if you can even call it that... I may have dozed off at points, but for the most part I tossed and turned all night), I was feeling terrible. I was tired, but also sad, in that way where you feel like you want to cry but it's just not going to happen because you don't have the energy for it. And I was kind of angry, too--angry at myself, for blowing it. I needed to hear something that fit my mood. I found myself reaching for Drowningman's side of their split single with Dillinger Escape Plan, a song called "My First Restraining Order". The song was also included on their album "Rock N' Roll Killing Machine", but I really only wanted to hear this one song. It's always had a lot of resonance for me. It starts out like a typical Drowningman metalcore song--heavy, riff-laden, angry and energetic but not too fast. Then, halfway through, it does what so many of my favorite Drowningman songs do and turns into a melodic, emotional rock song. Maybe even emocore, I don't know. Whatever you want to call it, it has a tremendous effect coming after half a song of angry freakout metal. Suddenly, this portrait of a stalker becomes sympathetic.
"Tell me what I said, tell me what to say" is the first line of this section. The jilted ex is appealing to reason here, and as scarily nuts as he must appear to the object of his affections, in the context of the song it's understandable. Later on, he repeats the line "I've called seven times, they say you're not at home" a couple of times, before saying "I can see your light's on. They said... they lied." Maybe I'm just crazy too, but I can relate to where he's coming from in this part of the song. A lot of times people would rather not deal with the issue than tell you one way or another what's going on. This is the kind of trouble you can get yourself into when the need to know becomes so strong that you violate societal norms. Because we've all called too many times, realizing too late that we've blown it. We've all gotten scary a time or two in our lives. Right?
By the last few lines of the song, the music has built to a crescendo, and vocalist Simon Brody is singing "I can't take it back" over and over. He knows he's blown any opportunity at redemption by this point, and if anything, it makes his pain sharper and more intense. The situation I'm in right now, the confusing thing that just makes me want to hide under the bed, is nowhere near the intensity of the situation described in this song, but the anguish I hear in its last lines hits home deep inside of me. Everything involved with dating and relationships feels like such a fucking struggle; as soon as things get a little weird, I get upset and feel like bailing out. I haven't pushed anything anywhere near far enough to get scary in a long time--since I was in my early 20s, at the latest. But I still know quite well the feelings that can drive one to that point, and at times when I'm feeling like the most maladjusted idiot in the world, I feel lucky that other people have gone there before me, and written songs that tell all the monsters of the world that we're not alone.
My situation: hey, we'll see where it goes. I don't have much invested in it right now, so if this girl and I are just going to be friends, that won't even really hurt that much after a few days. But I'm not looking forward to the process of trying to figure out what's going on. I just have to try and make sure I don't chicken out again. I don't need any more nights like last night.