You'll Be Gone and I'll Notice

Whatever part of my brain that is responsible for rational productive thinking seems to have been murdered this week by the part of my brain responsible for overthinking and complete ridiculocity.  Thankfully, I haven't had much homework to worry about.  Not so thankfully, I haven't had much homework to worry about.

I say thankfully because if I did have a ton of homework, I'm not so sure I could successfully finish it.  On the other hand, since I don't have hardly any homework, I'm left with a ton of time to indulge that murderous irrational piece of my brain that has staged one of the most successful coups in history and is in complete control.  I've tried to fill up the murder's time with story writing (as that is its typical function), but that seems unsuccessful.  The only thing that seems to keep it at bay and prevent it from going complete serial killer on my vital functions is indulging its persistent endless trains of thought.

Guess what?  Since you're reading this, you're now trapped on a high speed train with the previously mentioned serial killer.  Choo-choo!

I have thought for years that I am a heartless monster.  Those that know me best are saying, "No!  You're sweet and loving!"  While those that know me best are saying, "Yup.  That's about right."  Thanks to the seditious Overthought (which I have now decided to call him), I have decided otherwise.

My first hint that I am not a heartless monster came along with the thoughts associated with yesterday's post.  I thought for the longest time that I was a heartless monster because I couldn't write love stories, I had no heart.  When I discovered that this had nothing to do with the love involved and more to do with boredom, I was satisfied and decided that I might have a heart.

But there were other arguments involved.

Unfortunately, my body requires sleep which means that I can't stay up all night writing here.  That means that I don't have enough time to discuss all of the many reasons and examples as to my theory of heartlessness.  I do, however, have time to debunk one.

This summer I revealed to a group of people just how heartless of a monster I am by pointing out that other than my family, I had only ever missed four people.  You may now fight amongst yourselves as to who those people are.  When you're done trying to figure out if you're one of those special few, I'll continue and make the world make sense again.  No, no.  It's ok.  Take your time.

 . . .

 . . .

Are you done crying yet?  Thank goodness.  I don't really feel like dealing with that while talking about how I'm not a heartless monster.  That's just too much work.

I only just recently realized why "I don't miss people" while other people do.  It's really a very simple solution.  Other people don't miss people either!  I'll now give you some time to have your little hissy fit about how so-and-so does too miss you and how you really miss so-and-so.  Go on.  Have your tantrum.

 . . .

 . . .

Finished?  Great.

My firm belief is that people don't know what it means to miss someone.  No one has ever, in my opinion, explained society's view of the phrase "I'm going to miss you" better than The Big Bang Theory.  If you've never seen The Big Bang Theory, you should immediately stop reading, go to the mirror, look yourself in the eye and inform your brain that you have been depriving it, return to your computer and Google it.  You will eventually discover more than one website where you can watch full episodes online.  Come back when you're done.

In one episode (the season two finale if I recall correctly (which I normally do)), Leonard goes to tell Penny that he will be taking a trip to the North Pole for a scientific expedition.  When he tells her, one of her responses is "Oh, I'm gonna miss you."  Later in the episode, Leonard returns to ask Penny what she meant by that.  Her response was "I don't know.  You'll be gone and I'll notice."

That about sums up what I can only figure is most people's view of the phrase "I miss you."  To most people most of the time it means "I noticed you weren't around."  In all actuality, they're perfectly accurate with the definition:

"To discover or regret the loss or absence of," World English Dictionary

The "miss" in "I miss you" is, most of the time, "to discover the absence of."  In that respect, I miss my million dollars.  I miss my wings.  I miss my nine-foot-tall labradoodle, Crackers.

I, having a brain that doesn't exactly work in the same way as most people, tend to reserve the word "miss" for the definition "to regret the loss of."  When I say "I miss so-and-so" I am taking note of a legitimate feeling of loss in my life.  I legitimately feel like something important is missing when that person is not around.  Those four people that I said earlier I missed were people that at various times were crucial pillars of my emotional stability for one reason or another, and, without them, I felt like something deep inside me was not being properly supported.

Suddenly the word "miss" is a little less frivolous.  Don't you think?

There's a reason why I say I don't miss people.  I used to think that other people understood "miss" the same way I did.  It was not until very recently that I realized I'm not a heartless monster.  It's not that I miss people less than others.  It's simply that I put a lot more value on the word.  Do I notice people's absence?  Yes.  Does my mind immediately jump to "I miss that person"?  No.

Now, as usual, it's time to turn this train around a little bit.  You've ridden this long with Overthought and now it's time to turn the reins over to you.  (Don't ask why the train has reins)  Who in your life do you really miss?  I'm not talking about "discover the absence of".  I'm talking about "regret the loss of".

Who are those people in your life that, when they aren't around, leave a gaping human-shaped hole in your life that it seems only they can fill?