…and now I’m remembering why I’ve never been able to finish watching Buffy. It gets too deep. I know that sounds awful, but right around the middle of season five it all gets so real. And that’s one of the things to love about a Joss Whedon show, he takes these ridiculous ideas like vampires and slayers and manages to still talk about real issues. But it always felt safer in the earlier seasons. Now it’s just all too real and I’m not ready for that yet. It’s scary…but it’s not the vampires and the monsters that are scary…it’s the real life stuff. And that concept is even scarier.
And we’ve now reached the time of the day where I can stop pretending to be ok and just watch Buffy.
No. Feelings, stop it! I don’t have time for you right now. You are more than welcome to come back this afternoon. But not now. I can’t handle you right now.
This is not ok…not even close. Why you thought this was a good idea or that I would be ok with it…I don’t even know. You screwed up your chances for us getting back the friendship that you continuously claimed you didn’t “want to do anything to possibly mess up.” Well guess what? You messed it up. If you didn’t want to do anything to mess up getting the friendship back and you actually meant that, you wouldn’t have done this now, without actually talking to me about it first. Clearly you have your priorities in order and our friendship isn’t one of them. Well then, I guess that’s fine by me.
My life is way too much of a mess right now for me to be as happy as I am. Even if it’s a relatively fake happy.
So I sit here and even in my head I over romanticize this moment. I should be sitting on the window sill of a stone house, sweatshirt pulled down to my fingertips as I brace myself against the cold but invited air. Plaid mug next to me, still steaming as the boiling water soaks the tea bag whose aroma I can already smell. The leaves brush against one another in the breeze, playing the music of the season. I look out the window longingly as the sun hits my skin in all the right places and I sip from my cup - the first sip is always the best - feeling the warmth travel through my veins. I go back to writing, typing, feeling time slow down as I simply live in the moment. Alas, here I sit, legs bunched up against the solid wood of my desk. Plaid mug no longer steaming, the last sips of liquid cooled long ago. Fan and window combined create an artificial breeze and the music of the leaves is overshadowed by the ticking of the clock. I look out the rectangular window of the dorm longingly into the parking lot and I wonder if you too are thinking of me.
I know that technically I can’t be mad at him for this because he can’t control his feelings…but I kind of am angry. Like, all summer. Something had to have been going on in his mind, like he knew this was gonna end. But was I aware? Nope. So I held on…all summer. And I made up scenarios in my mind of what we were gonna do when we hung out once we were back at school. And now I get none of that. It’s like I just have these piles of hopes and wishes and imagined situations piled high in the dusty recesses of my mind and they will always stay there, never having had the opportunity to be realized.