Band concert. Nicole and I put on our sombreros right before we played "La Fiesta Brava", our march. Yeah. The audience seemed to enjoy it.
Marissa was tactless enough to point out the scars on my arm while we were in a large group of people. Thank you, Marissa. Please never do that again and just let the damned things heal in peace. I usually wear long sleeves because I don't want to talk about it.
I am... not manic. Overcompensating, I think. Michael tells me to forget about him. So I try. And I go a little crazy, laughing just a little too loud and smiling and reverting back to being immature and insane and smacking people with a trout (really). And I try to forget about him.
And realize that just forgetting about someone you have loved for quite some time is like removing a lung and a kidney and trying to function normally. it can be done, yes - but oh god, it's hard as hell.
There's this big... void... I look at him and it's like I don't see him, I'm trying so hard not to, to look just past him, not to even think about wanting to talk to him. He doesn't seem to want to talk to me, he's back to doing what he did at the end of last year. Not looking me in the eye, walking away when I come near, generally pretending that I'm not there. Maybe it's an unconscious behavior, maybe not. I don't know. I don't suppose it matters anymore. I can count on one hand the times he's walked over to me to start a conversation during our four years of high school. The number of times he's IMed me. This has been one-sided from the start. One of the happiest moments of my life was when he decided to actually talk to me, in public, in the hallway. He paused at the door to the class to wait for me so we could chat. He had never done anything like that before. I was amazed.
He is the best friend I have ever had, and he is the person I trust more than any other on the face of this planet. He is one of the only people I have ever felt remotely at ease with. He is one of maybe two people who I would consider allowing to see me cry.
After May 25th (graduation) I will more than likely never see him again. Given our usual methods of communication (online only) and the fact that I will not be messaging him since I keep getting the distinct impression that he does not wish to speak with me, odds are I will never talk to him again, either. I do not expect him to hug me (I can't recall him ever hugging me) or speak to me or look at me or even say goodbye over his shoulder, which is usually the only way he'll communicate when he's like this. And seeing him hug Emily and laugh with her and sit with her and smile for her and at her and joke and be friendly with her no longer really makes me want to die. I've fucked things up for the two of them way too much, and sometimes I really wish I hadn't. But I can't change it now. Maybe in a year if I transfer to UT Austin like my parents want me to, I will look him up. Probably not. I've bothered him enough for one lifetime.
Michael, since I know you read this and talking to you in person is a futile effort anyway between your fidgeting and Emily's presence...
I'm sorry. I wish you a lot of happiness in your life. Goodbye.
So I guess this is it. Another few months and I'll be starting over. New life. Certainly a very different, if not entirely new, me. No attachments.
Not "Jenni, the artist".
Not "Jenni, the writer".
Not "Jenni, the one hopelessly devoted to that guy there... the one with the flute".
I guess this explains it. You have to die for a little while before you can come back. I just need a few months of being dead.
Then I'll be okay.