Memories

I used to be a very clingy person. I would choose one person, and be their best and most loyal friend. I would always be there for them, and expect similar friendship in return.

But when high school came around, and when I became basically isolated from everyone else (no longer having internet), my friends changed. Sarah, who'd been the last "best friend" of mine made me aware of what a conceded douchebag I was, and totally threw away our friendship. Mairead and I also grew much more distant, and I no longer felt like I had any real friends. I became depressed and proceeded to write an excessive amount of poetry.

Slowly, I became used to the fact that I no longer had anyone I considered to be a true, caring friend like I considered Mairead and Sarah to be. All I felt I had were acquaintances, but there were no real friends. And so I created some friends to occupy myself, and thus was the birth of Brask, Netsua, and later Marcia. They all had unique personalitites, and I was able to pinpoint which one of them I was at a given time. Brask was blunt, rude, and hurtful, but he always told the truth. Netsua was lamenting and sad most of the time, usually over Mairead. Marcia was the obnoxious side of me, the annoying 9-year-old girl in all of us. And the combination of them all was Austen.

This kept me fairly sane, and allowed for some creative outlooks on things. Having any discrepencies built up in my mind about anything, I would have my conflicting viewpoints organized and simple, each being attached to a different part of me. It made me able to view myself and the different characters inside me as what they are: ideas. This led to my depersonalization. My actions became no longer my own. It felt like I was watching the world through a TV screen. I could see everything that was going on as a third party, observing the different and interesting ways people behave. The concept of "self" became non-existant. I was now one of the people on the TV screen that I observed, noting the different ways that I acted.
Then Mairead came back, and rejected me when I still showed interest in her. This drove me partially insane. I was overtook with grief, torn with the memories of all of the wonderful times we had shared, knowing that they would never come again. It took an immense amount of effort to accept this. I released some of it in the form of rage, punching the ground until my fists became bloody and bruised. Some of the scars are still visible. But this didn't help me, so I became depressed.

I relied on marijuana to relax me and allow me to no longer think about things. I made a conscious decision to get high so I didn't have to think about the things that were on my mind.

And thus Charlie was born.

Charlie doesn't care.

Charlie is happy.

Slowly, I accepted more and more that Mairead was only a friend. But I couldn't completely destroy the affection I felt for her. It would still linger in the back of my mind, refusing to go away. But I perservered, acting like I only felt friendship for her. She obviously didn't want me anymore. Our time together was at an end.

But I still kept trying. I wanted to be her friend so badly. I knew that the love we shared was over, but I couldn't bear to destroy the friendship. I still felt connected to her.

Meanwhile Mairead continually went through several more boyfriends, who she broke the hearts of. I stood by and watched it all unfold, feeling a twinge of jealosy toward the boys she was with, but mostly I felt a bit of anger toward Mairead. Whatever. I tried to put it in the back of my mind, like so many other things.

Eventually, she adopted a strictly 'fuck-off' attitude toward me, and I didn't understand why. I couldn't bear any more of the nonsense. I stated to hate her, believing that it would be the only way I could no longer want her. And the amazing thing was, it worked! I felt secure, finally, and I actually enjoyed making a point of hating her. I was getting my revenge for how she had treated me. She didn't seem to show any sort of guilt, and this fueled my hatred even more. I thought she was a heartless bitch. It felt so good to channel my anger at someone else rather than myself. It's something I wasn't used to.

But then she had to ruin this by doing the one thing I never would have expected. She apologized. She told me she misses me and wants to be my friend, and that she felt sorry for her bitchy behavior.

I later learned that the reason Mairead felt so bad about me hating her was that she still felt a small attraction to me.

So, slowly and with great effort, I reverted my mind away from hating Mairead, and became friends with her. That was all that we were. Things became okay. I became used to being just her friend. Having hated her and having noticed her bad qualities for the first time, I didn't feel very much desire to be with her. She became just another teenage girl.
And things were fairly calm.

Slowly, we became greater and greater friends. I never tried to enter any sort of relationship other than the one we currently had. But, by itself, it evolved into something more.
Mairead invited me over for the weekend (this was the first time she had done this in a verly long time), and, after much struggling with myself, I revived the relationship and turned it into something else. When we had previously been together, our reltionship wasn't remotely sexual. But on that day, so much of the sexual tension that had built up between us was suddenly let out. We shared a fantastic evening, and, had circumstances allowed for it, we would have most definitely had sex.

We became very close again. But we both had expressed that we didn't want to 'date' publicly. We didn't want to deal with how other people would react to us. We wanted to keep it all a secret.

And so, for a week, we were mostly inseperable. However, we encountered some embarassing situations where poelpe walked in on us making out. By the end of the week, at least 10 people knew, people that we had never intended to know.

The week ended, and I didn't see or talk to Mairead for four days over Spring Break.
And when she came back, she was barely interested in me anymore. She tried at the beginning of the week, I could tell, but there was no genuine interest in public. I didn't feel like she considered me to be special, and I became scared that she didn't want me anymore. She reassured me that she did, and that I shouldn't worry about it. This kept me sure and happy for a short time, but she continued to show little to no interest in me at all. I was confused. I thought she didn't want me any more.

So I gave her a break. I stopped trying to talk with her, which was more out of embarassment than anything else. She knew I still wanted her, and she didn't want me. I'd been through enough of that to take it again. We never officially ended anything between us, because we barely were able to talk.

Today I wrote her a note explaining how I felt, knowing that it would be the only way to get in contact with her privately. At the end, I requested that she please approach me and talk to me when she finishes the note. I placed it in her backpack, and, at the end of the day, it was no longer there. She must have read it, but, despite plenty of opportunities to talk to me privately at my request, she didn't. In fact, she was acting no different to me as if she hadn't gotten the note.

So I don't feel like I matter to her at all anymore.

I'll wait and see if she does try to talk to me at all. It really annoyed me that she didn't. But I'm used to being rejected by her. I've basically lost all hope, and, this time around, acceptance is easier. After all, I entered this fleeting arrangement prefectly aware of how it would turn out in the end. I knew she would grow tired of me. She always does.

But, like always, there is that tiny twinge of hope in the back of mind. Keeping it surpressed is the only way I know how to avoid massive disappointment when I am completely rejected by her again.