People Are Dead, But I'm Not And I Cried Today
"John McBride" by The Head and the Heart
In the city we don't know yet
Across the bridges not yet burned
Where the ice won't let us further
Wind our way down through the woods.
You are in the seat beside me
You are in my dreams at night
You are in grandmother's wisdom
You are in grandfather's charm.
June 15, 2016 Wednesday 12:03 AM
Yesterday (Monday), I talked to Brock about stuff. General stuff. He did that thing again where he said I'm brilliant because of, like. I don't know. It was just really nice. It made me feel like... wow. Surprised. At that opinion of me.
He said there's something deep about me. And that I articulate the human condition in an... atypical sort of way, I guess. Also said I'm brave, because I was like, "I don't love mah peeps all da time," and he was all, "Yeah, I don't think anyone does."
This made me feel better. Less... isolated. Somehow, it's comforting to know that when people tell me they love me, they probably don't mean it, but it's like a promise so it's okay. A promise that at some point they will, and they're confident of this fact. Otherwise, why would they say it?
Like, Liv just told me she loved me. In a normal way. "Love you, goodnight," and I doubt she really loves me right now. Promise, promise. It's good.
Ah. It's just nice when someone contradicts the thoughts in my head. It's relief, and I guess I'm desperate for that. I'd like to 100% believe the things they say to me. Really. But, like. I always want more. Still. It means a lot.
Did I tell you that Lily has been leaving little notes in my pencil bag all year and on the last day of school, I got to read all of them??? They were so cute and I felt so loved but I didn't know how to. Express that. I said thank you but didn't know how to get past that. I actually wanted to cry, I love Lily so much. Still don't know how to show that.
Yo: today I had, um. Oh yeah. An English exam. It sucked balls. I mean. I love English. And I enjoyed the texts. But the essays were shitty as hell. The first one was a stupid ass argument on whether or not celebrities should be the voice of humanitarianism. But, like. All year, the teacher has been saying, "Take one side or another, no in-betweens," but shit isn't that black and white. No, celebrities shouldn't 100% be the voice of humanitarianism, but it's kind of helpful having their assistance and all. Mostly. So it was tough to write, because I disagreed with the entire concept.
The second essay should've been easier but I was tired and wanted to go home and. Yeah. It was bad. EVen if it was maybe a 4 out of 4, I feel like I could easily be dropped to a score of 3 because I crossed out soooo many things and it's just an eyesore.
Student Teacher came to check my packet when I was all done. Most everyone was gone, except for a few kids (including the other kid doing the program next year – I like him so much lately, purely due to the fact that he's a slow test-taker despite intelligence). He was like, "Using every last minute, huh?"
Me: "I'm dead."
And he was like, asking me questions about my essay. Did I do this, did I do that?
I was saying, "I don't know. Sorry. I'm, like. Worn out. I mean. Usually I write essays in like two hours so this, this is torture."
He laughed, was telling me that he hated timed essays. "One time I wrote about 10 essays in three hours for a English class I took," and just wow.
My reply was, "How do you still have a brain?"
Student Teacher then complimented my analysis of Dramamine. I'm glad he liked it, I mean. I wrote it in an hour and I was exhausted and it was disorganized (plus, I wrote the thing the way I write in here, so. Yeah, lacking in formality to the extreme) but Student Teacher said that it made him look at Dramamine in a different light (he's the guy who knows Modest Mouse).
My analysis was basically this: dramamine is about isolation. Apathy. And how despite all that, you gotta keep doin' the do. Not sex, /life/. /Life/ people. You gotta keep doin' the life. Do sex if u want. There was no mention of sex in my actual analysis. Hah. Yeah, well. I supported my argument using lyrics ("I still can't focus on anything"), that whiny guitar sound that is uniquely Modest Mouse, and the general beat-thing, which sounded like a march to me.
Wilco is so good. Ahh. Sorry, okay, completely different band but I'm listening to "One Sunday Morning" and it always just makes me hurt in a good way. It sounds like what it's supposed to be.
I like Student Teacher a lot.
Before I left, he said, "You have my e-mail. If you have any questions about college or anything..." and maybe he trailed off, or maybe he didn't. Either way, I caught the drift. I told him good luck on his future.
I hope I have questions soon. I'd like to e-mail the dude. He's sort of a dork, reminds me of Adrian in five or six years, but. He's cool.
After the test, I stood next to Laney and this girl named Riz who was on the track team
(she is actually the prettiest girl I've ever seen. Seriously. How do I describe her??? I think she's as tall as I am, maybe taller. She actually has the perfect body – muscular but with shape and just. I'm jealous, but she's so pretty I can't hate her at all. It's hard to hate the pretty ones. She's also got really, really smooth skin, and it's dark. Like some kind of chocolate, probably. I'm not weird enough to be all, "10% dark chocolate" or something – wait, how do they even label chocolate if it's not milk or white or plain dark??? HOW DOES TRADER JOE'S LABEL THEIR ORGANIC CHOCOLATE BARS???? Okay. ANyway. Also, her eyes are really pretty and she's got this interesting face, god fucking damn it, I wish I had the capacity to describe it. It's pretty, okay, please believe me. If I could trade bodies with someone, it would be her. Although if I had to choose a body to draw, I'd probably choose Birdy's instead. He's got a beautiful... I was gonna say face, but it's all pretty. Damn his genes.)
So Laney went and then I was left with Riz. I thought it was gonna be awkward. She's sort of popular and while none of the popular kids are mean, they can be sort of stand-offish (I am also stand-offish so. It's not a good mix).
But no! It wasn't awkward. Riz is so nice. I asked her if she liked English, the subject, and she did and it made me so happy. She says she likes writing. We talked some more about random things, small talk mostly, but I didn't hate it. I hope this means I'm changing. Maybe I just felt like an equal for once.
(Not that it's anyone else's fault when I feel like less than that.)
Wilco, Wilco, Wilco. I wish I wrote poetry like you. I wish I wrote poetry at all. But poetry just seems like such an. Organic thing. Difficult to define. Amoeba..... Lots of things are like that. I don't know why this feels any different to me.
I cried this morning, haha.
I made the mistake of looking up the whole Orlando thing, since I can't stop thinking about it and I wasn't feeling much of anything, just curiosity, but I stumbled upon this article with descriptions of each of the victims and had to stop at maybe the tenth because I started crying over my breakfast. I don't normally do that, but it was just so.
It's one of those things you can't use words to shape.
Can't make you a replica. It hurt, okay. It hurt in a familiar place, and I'd forgotten that that place exists and that it can connect to the outside world.
It feels like childhood and. Last April. June. Or 2013. It feels. Like a lot of things. Like loss, I guess, because that's what it is.
Familiar. Very familiar. Wanna reach back and pull them out, or stop the blood, or. I wanna help, I wanna be in that situation, I wanna get out of there, get THEM out of there, I wanna be all of them and I want to stop it from happening at all. Want to spread myself thin, bulletproof blanket, or maybe wrap that guy – Omar – up.
He needs something warm. Needed something warm. Things went wrong in that brain and I am just. So unsurprised, and yet so frustrated. And maybe scared. Brock says that's where apathy comes from. Did he say that? Or was that someone else?
All I know is. Well. I guess I don't know anything.
Adrian said. He said many, many things.
I wonder if I was angry because I wanted him to not like me that way anymore.
I think. I think sometimes there are expectations of me. Maybe I imagine them. And I get mad, become something I really, really hate (you make me hate myself, is what I find myself thinking).
I was sort of sad, a little upset, because: after acting the way I did, all distant, I expected that Adrian would like me less and while this is what I wanted, in a way, I would also miss it.
Dunno why. I don't wanna be that way.
I always want the unattainable things. Really want, I mean, and I won't settle for anything less than /really/ want.
Adrian's not unattainable. I think I know him too well for that anyway. Problems with me include idealism haha.
But anyway. He said to me, just now, he said, "These songs are descriptions of you," or something like that. I didn't listen to them, just asked him how. He said a lot of things, as usual, and ended up with, "Well maybe the only reason it reminds me of you is because you are both secretive yet very inviting," and this I found. Interesting.
Because, like. I think on some level I am aware that this is how people see me. It seems like a dream. A shell. Of me. I am neither pleased nor displeased, though.
Adrian then said, "You never asked me"
"Asked U what?"
"I don't know," but I think I know.
I said, "U talking about, like, April? I have a good memory y'know," because that was Spring Break which was when I think he almost told me.
Then came another comment, a little avoidance. Safe reply. But I don't like that kind of waiting.
So, me, "Ah whatever. If u wanna question u gotta be specific as the pacific."
Now he's being specific. NOW he remembers. Christ. We are at present day now, people. Gonna go to bed soon. Jesus, how did it get so late so fast? It's almost 1 AM.
I'm giving him an out 'cause I'm not sure what I would do if he were honest with me.
Okay. Sorry. This has gotten dull.
I'm glad I'm not dead.
Will probably be sad again soon, but. Not dead!!!!
Oh, shit, he's being honest with me I think. God damn it Adrian. No. Don't tell meeee. What am I supposed to do???? God damn it.
DAMN IT HE REALLY IS BEING HONEST. Ugh. He said he's had a crush on me since... freshman year? Hah. No way. We weren't even friends! Oh my god.
"The sad truth is I've had a crush on you since I met you freshman year until
Probably it's not going away
Like that guy who finally got the noise to leave his ears by stabbing his beating heart
But not that intense" Then something about how it doesn't change anything, he just wanted to say it.
My answer was pretty shit.
"If ur talking about Edgar Allan Poe then he didn't stab himself he just confessed to murder.
If ur not then ok good comparison yay
Also: I wish U did this in person cause I can't talk via text.
I can't believe that but also fine and yeah that's the end of that."
Ugh. I wanna be. Nice. I wanna just be like, Oh, Adrian, I like you too! But. I can't because that would frustrate me too much. Like I said. I can only do this if I really want it.
I don't really want it. Not with him.
Okay. I guess I will end this because I have an exam tomorrowWWWWOOHHH SHIT. AHHHH MR. WASHINGTON. I HOPE I CAN GET UP early tomorrow shit shit shit.
Okay. Am going now.
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