So today was a BIG day for me. It was the second-to-last day in [TV Production class], and second-to-last day on the crew of [our show.]
We did something [Chuck] told me was very unique and “interesting,” and that he had never experienced before, and [The Kid] was terrified beforehand, relieved after, and [Bea] started crying. No, we didn’t all have an orgy.
Relevant, hilarious Torchwood scene:
[Our professor] critiqued and, at times, graded us in front of the entire class, and then other students piped in with their observations and opinions, both positive and negative. They tread very lightly with me, probably afraid I’d burst into tears like usual, and I felt like they let me off easy. [Bea], though, honestly thinks I have potential.
Poor [Bea] got a shitty review, because although we will all freely admit she is FUCKING BRILLIANT, only [our professor] told her this in front of the class. I forgot to. [The professor] and others piped in with her negative qualities, and [Bea] started to tear up and hid her crying.
Other than that it was interesting. I, of course, ‘cuz I’m wicked lame, spoke up for [The Kid], and got [Cully] to admit that “[The Kid]’s the fucking man,” and if we didn’t have [The Kid], we wouldn’t have (the character) Paul. (They too all liked his new shaven look and haircut.)
Tension this week was amplified by my own psychological fucked-up-ness, but on Sunday I said, “Last night never happened,” and [The Kid] agreed it should remain forgotten. Okay, so he actually said, it IS (i.e. WILL BE) forgotten told me no, it didn’t, and to “forget it.” And when I Google shit like, “What happens when you get turned down by that weird beardy dude who might be gay and he’s your best friend in the entire state of goddamn New York?” the blogs all say, “Move on and don’t mention it again.”
So he didn’t, but I did, more or less, by my skittish behavior around him, which was more skittish than usual, because in the past, who knows how he interpreted it, and now it was obvious why I was behaving that way. Then again, none of this leaves his mouth. In our continuing discussions to get to know each other, I found he’s very much got that manly trait of only saying things that are relevant, and a sort of old-world quality, especially when it comes to texting and instant messaging, (both of) which he dislikes.
Anyway, things got tense and I got lame and pissed off [Dee]. She made some good points I think I remember her making all along throughout the year, since July, that this is graduate school, and the work is what is most important. There’s a part of me that prays that [Dee] and [Ling] will forget, and along with [The Kid], really, about 98% of the personal things I’ve shared with them this year and this semester.
Work on the project was paramount, but it was never in the forefront of my mind until this week, when completing our research paper was our most important task. With others handling [our TV show], [The Kid] and I were free to concentrate our energies on our research project with [Dee] and [Ling], but I wasn’t the only one to let my mind wander. Even with whatever else is going on in his head, it’s less than what’s going on in mine (not less important, especially with the despair he said he felt back on Saturday night, but he’s so calm), and yet [The Kid] did as little, if not less, work. Then again he’s background guy, like we said to him in TV Production today. He did all kinds of miscellaneous tasks and writing we needed completed for the project. He also wrote some essays that were incorporated into our final paper. But honestly, all three of them admitted, with all my faults, I’m the best writer in the group. Okay, so maybe they didn’t say that. But it was hinted. (‘Cuz it’s true. LOL)
So what does any of this have to do with any of the crazy, stupid bullshit I pulled this year? (Or more specifically, this semester.)
If I really had been in love with [The Kid], of all goddamn people, I would have worked harder to make things civil. I would have done more work on our research paper to get us, and him, a better grade. I would not treat him like a psychiatrist. I would not clumsily try and launch myself at him. I would be nicer.
I sit near him though, and even with the things I projected onto this BROTHER of mine, and foolish things I said and did to him, I feel comfort. I don’t want to fuck him. That’s too…I mean, it doesn’t cross his mind at all. I’m not that. But I told [The Photographer], self-deprecatingly, that I would fuck anything that moves, provided I can actually fuck again. (Goddamn vulvodynia! Annnnd falling in “love” with people that don’t want you. And school. And bipolar disorder.) This is the [Eris] I feel haunted by, even though she was young, reckless, stupid and is, most importantly, in the past. I even said that to [The Journalist], that I wanted to change. But I blew him anyway.
Not that blowing [The Journalist] (who I keep running into in hallways) was necessarily a “return to form” for me, but I remember having a depressive episode and thinking that was the case.
I wonder if he knows I’m bipolar?
But then again, as [The Musician] said this weekend over IM, “It’s a problem, not an answer. One that REQUIRES a solution.”
So let me get back to the feelings I felt today with my…feelingness. /sighs. I’m going to have to say goodbye to this, whatever the fuck it was. “It’s all over,” he said, meaning TV Production and [our show], but this whole bizarre stupid experiment dream crap in my brain is also over. Companions no longer.
We’ve been project partners since July. That’s the only reason I ever hung out with the kid, until I found myself wanting to. I told him I was lonely and desperate, to try and explain my repulsive, desperate behavior (Saturday night), but he’s…
Every place I end up, I end up, if I’m lucky, with some kind of anchor.
But that’s not the case. /shakes head. And not only because we’re just classmates, neighbors, and I’m “a good friend,” and when he’s drunk, like a “sister,” but because…[The Kid] is a disturbed young man with a lot of problems he needs to figure out. Why do damaged people get drawn to each other? We wondered on Saturday.
But I’m not expressing it, I’m psychoanalyzing bullshit again. No, today, all day today, even as [Dee] and [Ling] were crumbling before our very eyes, when it came to completing our research project, I was happy to be next to him, to look him in the eye (which we do, now, and didn’t at the beginning of July), and to see…You can see his face, now, which…
Man, if you saw a picture of this kid, you would laugh at me SO hard.
Anyway, tomorrow is the last day I’ll see him before next semester, unless I bump into him or he wants to see me, or whatever, that never happens unless we’re stuck somewhere like the set of [our show], in the scene dock, bored out of our minds, eating chocolate or complaining about something or musing on life and entertainment or teasing each other. Driving a jeep two hours away to [an animal rescue]. And driving the two hours back again. Downing a bottle of red wine and cursing shitty Internet connections.
I knew as soon as I met him I would fall for him, in some way or another. I knew it when he sat down in my kitchen and we argued the existence of God, and I got in his car, as he drove, and saw those ugly, bitten-down fingernails and took his hand to get a closer look.
It’s all irrelevant, [The Kid] would say, or doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care. And what I pray, as well, is that he doesn’t care how mad or crazy I get. That he’ll be there.
But that’s not gonna be the case any longer. It’s…
It’s winter now. New beginnings for the spring.
That didn’t explain it either. It’s the way I can…
(It’s the way I psychically reach out behind me to feel his warm presence there. It’s the way I try and ignore it when he’s there and I can’t bear it. It’s sitting across from a table with him or in a car on the road or…So dumb. I feel sad, now.)
He didn’t mean it the way I interpreted it that Friday, but it was like gravitation, this year. /sighs.
I want him to go to the party tomorrow night. I’ll stay sober, this time, but I want one last big hurrah. And I want him to be there with me for it.
I wonder if he will go? Do I have the power to make him go to such things, anymore?