Sometimes it's more than I can take. To wonder what you're thinking. Do you ever think about me? When you do, what do you think? Do you think 'OMG what an overly emotional/fucked up bitch?' Or anything likewise negative? Do you remember the good memories, and even the bad memories? Do you wonder what things would have been like now? Do you wonder what might happen now instead? Do you miss me? Do you pretend like you were never friends with me? Do you talk about me to other people in passing, like I always accidentally do, remembering a memory and being like oh. Do you talk to each other about me? Does he talk to either of you? Do you talk to him? About me.
Do you ever, just briefly wish we were still friends?
I don't know that I really want to know the answer to any of those questions.
My mum mentioned one of you today. I desperately trying to avoid saying your name. She doesn't realise that it was you too, she thinks it was just the exbestfriend and the other one. I don't know how, since it was always our group of three. She liked you, because you wore skirts sometimes, and that makes me laugh, because she told me so many times, why can't you wear skirts more often like your friend? But she always forgot your name, she barely ever knew any of my friends' names. I don't know why, of all days, she thought to mention you today.
I'm trying to write something for tomorrow. Again, I don't know if I can.
[If you are reading, I really more than anything don't want you to read this.]
Those of you who have read my blog, from the start, will remember that I talked about how it actually physically hurts. And it's like, shit, my whole chest is so tight and hurts so much I can't even describe it. And you know, that hasn't been happening so much lately. So maybe I'm finally getting over it. But I don't want to. All those times I said "I would die without you", and, then, after all, I didn't. And I don't know, it, to me, felt like a betrayal. On my side. I didn't want that. So I wanted it to hurt, even more than it already did. But was I trying to make it hurt more or was I just trying to remember everything?
I didn't want to die, even without them. And I wanted to want that, but I just didn't. Not really. Even with the hospital, and the police, and the file, ohmygod, I just didn't want to think for a while. I was never going to DO anything. Yes, I don't think any of you know this, but when I came back to school, and they made me leave, and I didn't want to, and then I left but then I went for a walk and then the police came to find me and take me home... I was so scared and angry and alone. I know I said I didn't want to be alive, but I didn't want to die. I couldn't believe you thought that, I couldn't believe you would do what you did, and how everyone thought the same thing. It seemed absurd to me, although I knew, I knew how it would seem from your place. I wasn't mad about the hospital thing, I understood. I was angry because you thought I might kill myself.
And I would never.
But how were you to know?
All I knew then was that I was alone, more alone than I had ever been and that I had no one, no one who I could go to, no one who I could cry in front of, no one to even just give me a hug and listen. Of course my family, but how could I explain these things to them? I couldn't, and I wanted to protect my sister. Kathleen and Michelle, my best friends from primary school, knew the basics, but barely. I couldn't just weep to them over the phone, I didn't even understand what happened. They did what they could but they never knew how fucked I was. I just wanted someone. Nothing made sense at that point and I cried over everything. I stopped sleeping in my room, listening to my favourite song, eating chips from the local deli. I've recently listened to that song again, twice, and I've eaten chips there once, last week, but I still don't sleep in my room. Everything, everywhere was painful because it was a reminder of them and of the fact that I was alive. I felt acutely just how alive I was and it was so painful, I didn't want to feel that.
I'd felt like that before, over something. It was terrible. But then, I had David, at least. Although then I didn't even know if I had family.
Again, it was the feeling of the world being turned on its head. My world. And when I overdosed on painkillers and broke my promise to you, specifically to you, it made things worse. I failed all my classes at school that term. Like I said, nothing made sense. I thought that I had tried all I could and that there was nothing more I could do.
I hoped you weren't hurt over it but I had no idea what was going on and I assumed you were fine, because, you seemed fine. I don't know how I seemed but I felt all too vacant one moment, all too alive the next. I didn't think I was enough to hurt people. I still don't know. I never wanted you to know about the hospital incident. I half didn't want you to hear and be upset over it and half didn't want you to know and not care, and I was scared it was the second one that would be true. And it was...
Things aren't like that anymore. I don't actually struggle to breathe over that, except rarely. I don't get flashbacks of memories that make me lose all focus completely. I don't die inwardly every time I hear your name, I have developed a mechanism to distance the past from the future, mostly. I keep the present out of it and continue on conversation relatively normally, although a piece of my mind tells me something is wrong. It doesn't hurt as much, as often.
I don't know that I want that! I don't want to forget you, or what you mean to me, I still don't want to give up although that's ridiculous, isn't it? It's been too long, and the reality of that is only recently sinking in.
I don't know.