Aquaphobia

I'm lying because I'm selfish and obsessive. I want what I want and screw everyone else. I don't care about anyone else's feelings, with the exception of two or three people, all depending on my mood. I play nice all the time, every moment of every day, but in reality, I yearn to punch humanity in the face. People are stupid, ignorant, selfish, rude…I guess I hate myself as well. Hah. Not even a guess. I know. I like certain aspects of myself, sure. But primarily it's disgust.  



When I really think about it, I'm pretty messed up.



It's hard to write now. I'm in the hall, trying to ignore all the dregs of humanity polluting this class. Idiots. It's hard to write in such an open setting too. I'm used to hiding in my room at two in the morning and crying my eyes out. Except it's not that dramatic. I get angry and bitter and jaded. I hate crying. I'm having to pull out all these emotions I've successfully buried about a week ago. And I can't dig so far deep that it shows next period in band. Cause I've got to keep on the happy face. If I don't, Haley will ask me ten million questions, trying to make sure I'm okay. I'll lie and yes, but sometimes I'll say no and try to explain, but she doesn't get it. She can't; she doesn't have these wretched feelings and desires and impulses and needs.



Pause. They aren't wretched to me. If they were, I wouldn't be having all these problems. I'd let them fall away like rotting flowers. But I want these things, emotions, whatever. They bring out the best in me. The part that creates instead of destroys, loves instead of hates, is happy instead of angry. But it's also weak. A freaking doormat. And unstable. Very unstable. But I think it's the real me. The one I'm supposed to be. The half martyr self sacrificing doormat with her heart on her sleeve.



Well. It's always on my sleeve. But still. Better that than some untamable monster. Give the doormat a sword and a kick in the butt and she'll figure it out. And she kind of did. Is. But I'm having to re-figure and think. I don't appreciate it. It's easy to be a cold and to rip out everyone's heart. Being bitter is too easy. It's cheap. It's not real.



But I'm avoiding the real issue here. I'll get there, pinky promise. This would be easier if you were a Batman nerd. Then I could just use metaphors and avoid genders. (Hint.) Slash that's a giant neon sign pointing you to the obvious truth. I'm some disgusting cliché. The quiet girl who's actually really funny. The awkward artist and writer. And the nerd who loves Batman for the sole purpose of Harley and Ivy. (Only tools root for the heroes.) I'm the girl who fell in for her best friend. The one who couldn't handle getting rejected.



If the hero always gets the girl, does that make me the villain?



I guess I'll make this abundantly clear. I am (was?) entranced with the most amazing and ridiculous girl in the universe. (At least as much as I am capable.) And it kills me. She kills me. Every single damn day. Seeing anyone with her makes me jealous. And she hates me. Well. No. She doesn't. It just feels like it. I'm never good enough. Maybe if I was a Christian or acted differently or was a better student she'd need me again. I miss her so damn much.






She can't talk to me to my face. It's "awkward". Screw that. She doesn't trust me. She says I betrayed her. She gets so angry at me. And I didn't do anything. I just love her. I never asked her to love me in return. I never asked anything out of her! And she blew up at me. She killed me. She made me want to die. God, I wanted to die over and over again and maybe just once I'd wake up and be happy. I wanted to kill myself. Burning alcohol down my throat again and again until I couldn't feel my heart cry out to her anymore. Creepy disgusting wrong betrayed liar. Getting stabbed in the chest with every word. She says I took advantage of her, but I didn't. I was a fourteen year old girl, I wasn't capable. I didn't want to! I didn't. I freaking swear! I'd never do that to her. I never did anything. I can't help who I am. Asking me to stop loving her is like asking her to start. Emotions aren't like damn light switches. It doesn't work that way. She doesn't trust me...










And she pleads, "Let go of all those times I freaked out and said things I didn't mean".



But how can I forget that?






I can't just forget everything she said to me. The way she smiles and laughs, her sense of humor, her ocean eyes, the expressive way she talks, the way she cares and cries, the way she plays the marimba. Her body poetry. When she used to trust me. Does she remember when she would hug me for days and spin me down a hallway by the band hall?





I do.





I'll always remember.






I was trying to get back something that some tool bag who was trying to flirt with her stole. She hated that guy. God. We were all so happy then. Me and the tool bag crashed together in what I'm sure was an epic battle. Soon after I was stealthily tackle hugged. It was so typical. So normal...but it meant the world to me. I never wanted to leave her side. She was dancing down the hallway, practically flying off the walls. She eventually crashed and sat on the table next to me. And she was going on a mile a minute about nothing in particular, but she was so damn excited. It was endearing. Cute. Effing adorable. And her green eyes were glowing. And I wanted to kiss her. Just once.




But you probably don't want to hear that. Anyway.




This girl named Kayleigh was my friend at the time, and was the only one who knew about me. She sees all of this and starts laughing to herself. I look over, and she mouths,"Damn, girl. You've got it baaaad". And I smile like an idiot. A madly in love idiot. And then my favorite person in the universe put her head on my shoulder (This is quite a feat. She's pretty tall.) and I played with her hair.






And I was so happy. I'd give anything for that back. And doesn't that sound pathetic? But it's real. It's me. The stupid romantic idiot. I'm obsessed with the good, with the bad, with her...I remember every single time she tore me to pieces and every single time she built me up again. Together and apart, over and over again. My molecules are getting unstable. I'm on some emotional roller coaster from hell, but I never get off the ride. Why? I couldn't tell you. I know that logically, this can't be good for me. But I can't go back to who I was. I wasn't a good person. I didn't care, I lashed out, manipulated others. This girl...she makes me human.



Being an angsty teenager is better than being an out of control child.