Performing

What do you do after a break-up?

I’ve only had two break-ups. Both with the same girl. I’ve been heartbroken quite a few more times than that, of course, but I don’t really know how to do a break-up right. Do you think about that person every day? Are you filled with guilt? Do you hate yourself because you’re alone again and even though you know you don’t really want it, all you want to do is be more and more and more alone until there’s no one to even notice you’re alone?

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about how life is a performance. The opening scene of Past Lives, the triumphant 2023 film debut of director and writer Celine Song, begins with a wide shot in a bar of the three main characters and very slowly zooms in on them as two unnamed, unseen characters narrate the shot and question the nature of the trio’s relationships. Are they lovers? Coworkers? Family? It’s one of the most intriguing beginnings to a movie I’ve ever encountered. The narrators serve as an audience stand-in and elegantly frame the movie as an exploration into these relationships, which turn out to be as delicate and complex as the opening suggests, weighed down by the titular past lives of each character. Perhaps even they are unsure who exactly they are to each other, who they once were, or who they will be. It’s all so alluring, and I find it extremely relatable. When I encounter people in my daily life or at work, I am always wondering what their stories are; sure, that cute pair may seem like a couple, but what if they’re just friends? Maybe he’s secretly in love with her. Maybe it’s an awkward first date. Is that a woman with her daughter, or an intergenerational coworker friendship? Why is that old man alone? Did he ever have a family? Who on Earth needs Panda Express at 11 pm, and why do they seem so sad? So naturally I wonder, when people see me, what do they think of me? What do they think of the boy tearing his hair out at the intersection because he wants to cry but isn’t sure what about, or the kid weaving through the crowd at Trader Joe’s just to get a jar of olives and a lemon?

With all the break-up stuff and some other stuff in my life (yeah, I don’t share everything on this blog), I wonder if, at some point, I sit down and the camera zooms in on me and someone asks questions about me. Who is he? Why is he alone? How does he live like that? What is his future? Or maybe they tell stories. Did you hear about him? Did you hear about the kid who failed to live up to his potential, about the guy who doesn’t take care of himself and just sinks and sinks and sinks? Did you hear how he has no one anymore? Then I think, what an absolute narcissist. Who is left to tell stories about me, or to ask questions about me? Look at the state of the world. Who is thinking about what some random person is going through? I’ve written so many question marks on this document, but I know the answers to these questions. There’s no one, really. It’s not like how school was. Going to a tiny school felt like the panopticon. You are always observed by someone who knows you, so every action becomes a performance. At least that’s how I felt, always conscious that I was trapped with people who knew me and could see everything, especially since I was known as the Asian nerd and visible to people through my positions of leadership. So actions became exaggerated as cries for help or attempts to make myself seem interesting and accomplished. I am not really ashamed of this. Even the electron cannot help but change its behavior when observed.

So what do I do now? Do I perform for myself? I suppose. But what do I do with that? I cannot tell myself “Bravo!” Who do I tell all of my random thoughts, about how I got emotional earlier because there are too many recipes and foods for me to cook and perfect, but never enough time, or about the middle school girls on a street corner and their very silly attempts to spin signs advertising their car washing services? I wonder if it is a condition of our modern, technology-infested society. Not only is every moment shared and manicured to perfection by us, whether it be on Instagram, Locket, Facebook, text, or whatever, but we are also constantly at risk of being shared. We have all seen a million videos and pictures taken of unassuming strangers, then shared online for ridicule or commentary; the horrifyingly-well-publicized Meta glasses now offer a way to do so in a way that is almost completely undetectable. I confess that I am a victim of this as well; just a few hours, I set up a nice little picture of my laptop, a bowl of popcorn, and a mug of tea for my Locket.

I guess life isn’t meant to be a performance. It’s just meant to be lived. Ugh. I hate saying cliches. I don’t know how to escape it. Anyways, I am reminded of that moment in the excellent movie The Secret Life of Walter Mitty where a photographer finally manages to catch a glimpse of the elusive snow leopard and, instead of taking the picture, just pulls his head away from the camera and watches the leopard leave. The eponymous Walter happens to be joining him in this moment, but otherwise, he would have just allowed the moment to exist for himself, taking in the wonder that is the leopard without any need or desire to share it with others. Perhaps a bit selfish, and perhaps the wisest thing he could have done.

I think this whole performance thing is tied deeply to the thing I’ve always said is the most important thing to me in relationships: sharing my life with someone. Not just to share my life with the people I am in love with, but to share my life with anyone I care about, and importantly, for that to be reciprocated. Now I am confronting it and wondering if it’s a desire I should even have. Of course, everyone should be willing to open up to others. That is absolutely not in question, and anyone who thinks otherwise is basically just being edgy and jaded. But should I really be gauging my soulmate based on if they want to know everything about my life, and if they will tell me everything about their lives? I will cling to the idea, at least for a while longer, but in the meantime, all it does is create a deep yearning in me that can’t yet be fulfilled. Of course, this blog is a way to share most of my life with the world, but I do not know who is on the other side.

This has been one of the most difficult parts of the break-up. Having no one to perform for, and no one to share my life with. That doesn’t mean it was the wrong choice. Maybe it just means I’m going to miss out for a little bit. Or hopefully I can learn to perform just for myself. I am planning on taking myself out on a little solo date soon. I was thinking the other day about how I wanna go out, but I have no one to really go with, and I decided, why not just go myself? Is there an urge to post it on Instagram specifically to show that I’m living my best single life? Yes, kind of. But I think it’s still a step in the right direction. I just watched Forgetting Sarah Marshall, where the main character goes on a Hawaiian getaway to try and get over his ex, but she happens to be at the exact same resort, and he only really is able to move on when he chooses himself and works on his silly little Dracula puppet musical. It was recommended to me by a boy who recently went through a break-up, and though it was a completely bonkers movie, it definitely got me thinking. How do I choose myself more, and how do I become the person who no longer needs to perform for others?

I’m not sure I’ve said anything profound tonight. I guess I just really wonder if everyone else feels like they are constantly performing, aware of actions not only from your point of view, but from everyone else’s. I wonder if I should really be waiting for someone who wants to share their life with me (part of why I broke up with my ex [what a dirty word]: because I felt that she always wanted me at an arm’s length, even after 2 and a half years of close friendship), or if that is an unrealistic expectation cultivated by our surveillance and self-surveilling state and my obsession with romcom romances. I wonder who I am now, and who I will be as I try to make new connections and build a new life for myself. I wonder if my performance has not been good enough, and that’s why I have had friends who just disappeared from my life, and why I’m always yearning for people who don’t want me back.

Anyways, this post is dedicated to the guy who recommended Forgetting Sarah Marshall to me. It got me thinking and made me want to write a little something. Obviously I should be writing a short story instead, but it’s almost 4 am and I would like to feel a little okay about myself tomorrow.