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Guess What I'm Not Doing? Sleeping.
"Syracuse" by Pinback [!!! I live near there. Also, this song makes me happy]
I step down into sand
Water carries us from here
(Whatever the thing that set you up
Set you off and down again)
I'm fightin' this assignment
I'm wishin' we fall into the well
(Until he's spared no reason)
(What he doesn't know
Could fit inside a thimble)
I'm wishin' we fall into the world
I missed your monotube
I missed you... far away...
February 12, 2016 11:37 PM Friday
And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair —
(They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”)
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin —
(They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”)
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
For I have known them all already, known them all:
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?
-An exerpt of The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot
I went to Peer Leadership for the first time in forever on Tuesday. It was so lovely. My first session was with Adrian. I wish I could show him more affection. I like touching him, which sounds weird but I mean that in a platonic way. I mean whenever we session, he sits really close to me so our knees are together and he's so warm. Not sure why, but I always expect him to be cold, maybe because Adrian's wiry and tense (tense, yes, but moves like spaghetti at the same time – in staggering movements, yeah... Not languid, like someone relaxed. No, he's not relaxed).
He's not cold, though. His body is warm and his hair is fluffy and if I were Liv, I'd tell him straight up that I wanna snuggle with him but I won't do that because guess what – I'm not my best friend, haha. Which is okay. He has a girlfriend, and I wouldn't want her to think I'm trying to steal him or anything. Maybe she's not even suspicious, though. I don't know her very well.
All I know is that she is described by herself and others as "kind of an asshole" (like Mr. Sandwich, not a straight up bitch) and she's pretty damn funny. And pretty, too. She's got a lot of hair and a nice face and she's short, curvy, and just generally nice to look at.
Her and Adrian make an odd couple. They're so different... From my perspective anyway. I mean, not just physically (he's a pale, skinny redhead and that's like the opposite of her), I just... wonder how they're relationship works. Genuinely, I wonder. I wish I could watch them interact without being super weird. I like them, though. Together I mean. They're cute. And Adrian is happy with her I think. He said, "It's nice to finally choose someone." He says he never chose who he dated before (I know he asked them out, so I'm not sure what he means by this).
His birthday is next Friday. He invited me to his party and I'm definitely going. I think I'm going to try and get him a present, even though he said he doesn't want one. I dunno. I feel like I should apologize to him – but then, I feel like I should apologize to everyone, so. Yeah, haha.
My second session was with Alexis. This one was nice. We laughed a lot. The main subject was loving oneself and I was relatively honest in saying I don't.
She asked what it was I didn't like, what I'm insecure about. I said, "Oh, the usual. My looks, my intelligence, my personality... I basically hate myself but not really."
Alexis said something nice, said I was really pretty and stuff. She goes, "Yeah, Liv and I were talking about it during Regents week when you were at Achiever's." They were sitting in my room while I was gone... saying I'm pretty. Wow. That really made me feel nice. Nicer than I've felt in a couple weeks. And it reminded me of how Alexis said she and Adrian were agreeing that I was hot???? Awesome. I mean, I still kind of feel like a child, but that works.
I feel strange in a way. Huh.
Oh, yeah. A couple people called me cute this week! Meekah, a lot, because she's Meekah and always says I'm cute. Malcolm too. We were playing chess and he's like, "You're cute," because I was complaining about something and apparently my frustration charms people (hah! they should see me when I'm actually mad. that's anything but cute. that's a fucking hurricane right there) so I was all, "I know, but ugh!"
Cute is nice, yes, I like being cute. I still wish I was better at being angry at people. What? What.
Liv said she missed my face. She slept over on Wednesday night. We snuggled (Liv says we "snaggled" and she had a bad day today. I'm not sure why, she didn't wanna talk about it, but said she wished we could snuggle). I'm good at being close to people sometimes.
Relationships would be so easy for me. So easy for me. But it depends on the person, really. It works so well with Liv because of how relaxed she is. If boys were that relaxed with me..
Hah. This entry is so disconnected. Yeah, I told Liv today I want a boy to make out with (not date, I'm kind of turned off by that idea). She said, "Look for one at Adrian's party." I said I guess I could, but I'd rather be friends with them first.
OKAY THIS SOUNDS GROSS BUT LIV SENDS ME PICTURES OF HER SHIT AND OTHER GROSS STUFF AND I LOVE IT. NOT BECAUSE OF THE CONTENT, BUT BECAUSE SHE'S SO COMFORTABLE WITH IT AND IT MAKES ME FEEL TRUSTED, IT'S NICE. BESIDES, IT TAKES A LOT TO DISGUST ME. LIKE A LOT.
EARLIER THIS WEEK, I STOOD IN THE ROAD LOOKING DOWN AT ROADKILL. SERIOUSLY. I WANTED TO MAKE SURE I DIDN'T HAVE A SOFT STOMACH, BECAUSE I KIND OF HOPE I CAN FIND A CAREER HAVING TO DO WITH CUTTING THINGS OPEN IN A TOTALLY CONSENSUAL WAY.
Warning: The following description is somewhat graphic.
The squirrel died like this: fell from the telephone lines, probably, and was hit by a car. The pressure of the wheel that ran over it (assuming it was a wheel) caused its lower intestines to explode. It looked funny, all pinkish and grainy, like ground beef but not quite. It was strange, seeing that messy combination of pink and white and red and dusty brown (the latter being the fur). Like an abstract painting or something. I wish I could've stared longer at it, but I was holding a bag of food and my mom was all, "VERONICA, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU EVEN DOING, WHAT. I'M HUNGRY" only this was in spanish and she swore a lot more (in a friendly way. my mom uses swear words as... I dunno. Exclamations? Enhancers? Whatever, they're everywhere. They make her sentences bold. Sometimes sharp. I don't like when they're sharp).
Talked to Pat on Wednesday. (Meanwhile, Liv was at my house chilling.)
I feel like I just puked up half my life in that hour an a half talk. I got in and I was already shaking because I took Exedrine Migraine before going (I had a migraine. Also had one today, but that's besides the point) and that has caffeine in it.
I talked about a lot. Talked about relationships and how I keep seeing the world as this filthy place and how I blame everyone else for my problems (which results in me feeling guilty and then curling back round to blame myself 1000 more than anyone else in order to somehow make up for previous thoughts).
Talked about how I'm so torn, because I see the world all abstractly but then I strongly value logic and am the most faithless person I know (maybe even more than my dad).
I love math and certain parts of science but art is just so much easier for me... Gah!
I also discussed my views on love. On getting old. Both subjects, my way of seeing the world was dark to say the least. It centered around, "What's the point?" mostly.
Finally, I told her that I think I might be incapable of missing people. Or truly caring. Or something. I don't know how to miss you, I can only want... you... here. And there's a difference. One hurts – hurts in a way that almost feels good. The other simply... is. The other is just... weak desire or something.
I hate it, I hate it. I want to feel, I want to care, I want something other than this apathy. It's not like I'm completely emotionless. Stupid things make me ridiculously happy, stupid things ruin my entire day.
But I can't seem to absorb the big things. Like death. Or danger. It doesn't stick. It's not real. It's a story book, a lie. I try reaching for something, for understanding I guess, but it's like clutching water. The feeling isn't strong enough and it doesn't last.
I remember I cried last summer because of that, sitting on the steps of my old elementary school in the dark. It was almost ten PM. I was texting Liv and she typed out some harsh truths. Not on purpose. I was saying confusing, indirect things in an attempt to relieve myself, and she went, "Did you mean [insert exactly what I mean but didn't want to say or hear or acknowledge at all... here]?"
So yeah, I said my goodbyes to her and tried to forget because Jesus Christ, I just want to cry. I want to cry, really hard, for something and someone other than myself at least once more in my life. It hasn't happened enough. I've cried way too much for the fire in my body.
Not the point: the point is, deep down, there is some sort of absence. A sort of numbness, a lack of comprehension of the very things I need to understand. Fuck! It's torture. I'm Tantalus, only instead of fruit hanging above me, there is an experience and that experience is the thing that'll reassure me of my existence. I can't reach, I can't reach. It's not even a punishment – it's just the way I am. And sure, it wouldn't solve all my problems.
But please. I just want to miss you, and I just want to love... Love and care and be genuinely selfless. But alas, I cannot. I can only dredge up the weaker forms of these sympathetic emotions. It won't come naturally.
Pat said, "I guess that's what they mean when they say time heals." And I was all, "I wish it wouldn't heal." But it did. Or maybe there was never a wound to begin with. After all, the world still feels the same. Sometimes, I run down stairs and look around, confused because I'm expecting the pound of footsteps signifying an excited doggy looking for affection. Only April never comes and I'm not sad about that. I just say, "Oh," and move on. I want her back. I fucking want her back, I want her here. But I can't miss her. I can't even feel like she's dead.
This applies to you too.
Anyway, Pat said this when I ran out of breath and sat back: (My voice was all shaky. So was the rest of my body.)
"You're complex... blah blah... very unique quality... able to see world on different levels..."
It was very nice. Incredibly flattering to say the least. She goes, "I don't think you realize how rare that way of thinking is," or something that sounded... better. I said, "Yeah, well... I dunno, I've never thought any other way."
This week successfully raised my self esteem.
I saw my average for second quarter. It was brought down by my gym grade. Fucckckkckkc. But it was still good. Unless Birdy-the-fucking-super-genius faltered, though, I won't be top of the list. Maybe that's better. He's much smarter than me anyhow. He'd deserve the title.
Me and my dad proved the Pythagorean Theorem using President Garfield's proof thing. It was fun. I fucking... love deriving shit. Love knowing how to do it. I'm definitely not a natural. It's still enjoyable.
Had a dream that Ethan asked me to prom. Not romantically, although I get really confused sometimes because I kind of think he's hot but then have brotherly feelings towards him??? It's weird.
I don't know him at all anymore. That doesn't apply.
Point is, he asked me to prom. I said no, because I thought it'd be weird and I didn't want to go to prom anyway. This is what would've happened in real life too.
I kind of miss Ethan, but I also don't.
It sucks. Sucks not having him around, sucks losing (the word "losing" seems so dramatic though) the brother I never had. Sigh...
Like with everything else: I don't miss him.
I've thought about it a lot. Whenever my sister when away... I didn't miss her either. I'm not sure I've ever missed anyone ever. That thought scares me so fucking much.
Isaac invited me (and Adrian and Liv and Drew) to smoke. I was all excited about the idea at first, but I was practicing piano a few days ago and I realized... I really don't want to smoke. I don't feel like it. Don't feel like getting high and lying in bed for hours afterwards. In a way, I feel as if I can't afford it.
I hate that. I fucking hate that. It's like I'm losing something, a sort of recklessness. Disregard for the future. Not that that was ever a huge thing for me. But, y'know. I used to have a more "fuck it" attitude towards drugs an alcohol. Now, the idea of doing either is kind of... eh. Seems like too big a sacrifice. A lot of things seem like too big a sacrifice these days.
The guy who wrote this book I'm reading, The Tooth Fairy, described a woman's facial expression with these two words: "rude geometry"
I like that image.
Isaac again. Me and Liv were wondering if he's ever not high. He's a smart guy and we have a lot in common but he smokes so... much... I don't like it. It kind of worries me.
Not that I'm gonna say anything. I've been friends with Isaac for... what... a month? Two? Yeah, no. Too early for that shit.
OKAY, seriously, it's half past midnight so I've got to go to bed. I have a field trip tomorrow morning (groan). Sometimes, I hate myself and the things I sign myself up for... Why am I trading in my weekends? Seriously, I'm a kid. I should be doing kid stuff. Resting my head. Jesus Christ, I don't want to be learning all the time.
Anyway, yeah, goodnight.
I'll have a week off starting tomorrow! So expect a lot of writing. I have no homework (except for some non-mandatory APUSH work, but I will most definitely be doing that) either, so fuck yeah.
I submitted my application to that science school program. I hope, hope, hope I get in. Ahhhh. I get the feeling I won't. That kind of stuff doesn't work out for me.
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