Applause for the Wallflower

So I'm pretty mad. I finally got the nerve up to ask Evan if he wanted to go to the Talent Farm with some of the guard girls, and I find out we have rehearsal that night. It's not like I asked him out on a date or anything...just to hang out, which kind of makes it worse because now I know I basically can't reschedule this psuedo-date for another day. Oh well... Guess I'll have to make some other excuse now lol...

On the prospect of other boys...I sort of almost admitted to this kid, Tyler, that I've had my eye on him for a while now. I think he kind of picked up on the hint...after all, the male species really aren't all that stupid. I guess I kind of wanted him to, just to get his reaction. I don't know...and I think he makes it a point to hug me every morning. He makes me believe its because he wants to prove he's not a liar (previous conversation, had to be there), but I feel like maybe its more than that. Hmm...

Well there isn't much else to report. Well, actually, there is. But I don't think it'd be too hot if I mentioned it at this time. So for now, I'll just leave you with the bit of somewhat solemn news I have about my hindered love life. Life goes on...

Its always been hard to look him in the eyes and not want to tell him exactly how I feel. Maybe it doesn't make him uncomfortable to sit in the guard room, listening to the girls gush on about this new boy I'm interested in...but I'm not gonna lie, I hope it does.

Every time I think about him and this new girl, all I can seem to draw to mind is the fact that he's probably telling her he loves her now... Feeding her all these seemingly true "facts" that make her believe he does. Truth be told, he probably feels like he does. But after all this experience with him, after all the other boys, I've finally started to understand what love is, what it means. It's not that flutter you get when you first start dating. It's not the rush you feel or the longing to want to be with them. It may feel like its all those initial things... It's supposed to, but I think I finally understand that it isn't. It's being able to give someone your best when you aren't. It's accepting someone else at their worst. It's knowing that no matter how angry you get at or with them, they'll always be there for you no matter what happens.

The truth is, I always thought I had that security with him. I always thought, especially after all the pleads and the nights of tears when he had come home, I thought we were home free. He finally loved me the way I had always wanted. He finally appreciated me for everything I had done for him, for the love he knew I'd always give him. But something in him changed the moment we got through our "issue". That night, I could feel it in the way he held me. I could feel it in his touch. He wasn't ready to care for me through my sickness, when I felt like I was at my lowest. What hurts the most is knowing that he's totally capable of all those caring characteristics, that I was so willing to do the same for him, had he been where I was sitting, but he was the one who didn't want to. I'm scared that if eer this happened to this new girl, would he be willing to do the same with her? I'm so afraid that despite what he said about it not being me, but him, that in reality, it really is me. In reality, it really was all my fault he left. It feels so wrong to sit here and contemplate all these possible factors and outcomes and know he's sitting happy, explaining the story of his life to a girl that doesn't care about his new girlfriend. It hurts to think that he's probably smiling write now looking at the picture of them sitting together, buttoned to his backpack...and me... I'm still here writing away my sorrows about how he's left me and it's all my fault. I sound like a bad country song.

In some ways, I think I want things to go back to the way they were before all this happened; when I was contemplating break up; when I had the upper hand. How could I have just given myself so completely without even considering the possibility of other people? Why couldn't he display the self-control I was trying so steadily to give? Why was it me that had to stop talking to my person of comfort and not him? Because he was the one who left. He left me. For someone else. For a girl he probably thinks is a million times more gorgeous, is waaaay less naggy, not clingy in the least bit (I guess it helps she doesn't go to our school), and just overall, a better catch. Me? The only hope I have for truly being happy again escapes me. I don't know where to go from here and I don't know where to run. But I guess in the end, half the story is the search of the exit...

Ah, the single life... I have no idea whether I like this fact of not. I mean it has its pros and cons, I guess. I'm finally at liberty to make my own decisions without having to consider the feelings of someone else; I'm free to speak to whomever I want to, whenever I want to; I get more sleep during the night; I use less of my minutes on the phone (yay); I have no one to constantly impress anymore...and now I'm just pulling excuses out of my ass. Well, like I said, pros and cons. Truth be told, I kind of didn't mind having to make my decisions around someone else, and I also started to get used to the idea that I had to limit my interactions with the opposite sex other than Carlos. But I guess all in all, it's no so bad.

But lately, I've been trying to get excited over other boys...prospects, ideas, texts messages, cute stolen glances... I just don't remember how to react anymore, though. I remember the butterfly feeling and I remember the giddiness, but I somehow, I just don't feel it when I'm talking to these boys now. Maybe it has to do with the fact that the first boy on my list is recycled from middle school, and the second will always be more interested in a sport (which if you knew who I was talking about, you'd understand) than he will ever be in me. I don't know. I wish there was something new out there, a fresh face. I'd love to just be able to go to a church and pick someone up like some unmentionable did. Unfortunately, because that outlet is closed off from me, I have no way of doing that...not that I'd be going to church for the specific duty of finding someone new lol. But I wish it were that easy. I wish I didn't have to over-exaggerate my happiness sometimes. And I really wish I would stop defending me. I mean, as much as I have my share to say about him, the bottom line is that whatever mean or unnecessary comment I make is usually followed with a nice or gentle remark about his situation and what that's doing to him. In all honesty, he's probably perfectly fine by now. Usually about a week after drama, things simmer down and he goes back to regular old Carlos. In any case, I'm still finding myself overtly expressing my happiness around him, as if to throw it in his face. I just wish I'd stop that. Evaluating it makes it seem so juvenile, like I don't have enough security in it to believe it myself, that I have to not only double it up, but shove it down his throat so he believes it as well.

Don't get me wrong, I am happy. I'm seeing so many things in a new light; learning to appreciate the small things, just like my mom said to do. It really works. When it first happened almost a month ago, my mom told me to do this one thing, just take it one day at a time and focus on the little things that make life great, and it helped so much. I don't think I would have made it through those first couple of days without that idea. Of course the resentment and hatred (whatever I could muster) probably played a vital role as well...lol. But my point is that I'm happy. Now I'm making my own happiness for myself, I find that I'm smiling more often than I'm not, I'm a more productive person, and I'm definitely healthier. But the sad truth is I still feel like there's something missing. Like a piece of me that I once knew, something I once held, just doesn't exist anymore. Its hard to explain and I probably sound totally melodramatic and cliche right now, but its like I've experience what true love felt like, what having your "other half" was like...and now that that half is missing, you aren't whole anymore. Maybe it isn't so much him that I miss, its the feeling of being whole; not being completely content with just yourself.

Another truth: no amount of words will ever be able to undo this mess we're in now. Things will never be the same again. We've condemned whatever salvagable relationship we may have in the future to be one filled with awkward silences and all-too-long pauses that are filled with words unspoken, dwelling and hanging there that'll never get their chance to be heard. This is the one detail I can't seem to get over, that and the whole "he doesn't care" thing... But this, it's more than how he doesn't seem to care. If ever there were a chance that we could mend this argument, whatever we'd be left with would be completely torn to shreds...broken and left in shambles. I've scrutinized myself so thoroughly in trying to decide if an apology is right, if I should just swallow my pride and be the first to step up, or if I should let the days and weeks, and eventually months, of dirty looks and expressionless faces continue to separate us, allowing the gap's enormity grow and grow. What do I do? I know what I want to do, and in my heart, I know what's right. So just like we've all been making an effort to do, I'll put my hopes into my little pink bubble and let it float up to the universe where someone will answer me. Because there's nothing I want more right now than what I just let float on...

It would be my luck. We haven't spoken in a week and I'm trying to hold onto the fact that I'm my own person now. I'm trying hard to smile and remember that I've been liberated, free from all personal strain and heartache in the future. I just reread some entries from a couple months ago, even at the beginning of this month. Not even a week later, we were done. Just like that. I don't even know if I've been able to say everything that's been on my mind lately. Between "How could he stab me in the back like that?" and "What does she have that I don't?" and "Why now?" and all those other boiling-hot issues, I feel like there's so much in my mind, everything just comes out a big jumbled up mess. I can't make a complete series of thoughts without losing my thought process or repeating something a number of times.

God, part of me wants to damn him because sometimes all I can focus on is how hard the season's going to be this year... It's a really selfish thing to say, but here's the truth. I'm not a nervous person. I mean sure, I get a minor case of butterflies every so often when it comes to performing, or maybe talking to a cute boy, or I don't know...exciting things. But Premier Night, Andrew and Katrina, neither of which know my pre-show rituals, nor my habits well enough to understand what was going on, saw me right before stepping onto the floor. The more I go back to the memory, I feel stupid and I start hating myself for letting someone confuse this minor metal collapse for anxiety like Sarah's. Not that her nervousness is anything to look down upon. Some people handle their stress in different ways. But I'm not the type of person to cry out of that energy. In fact, I thrive off of it. I perform better when I feel that buzz, that lightness, like everything comes down to a moment. But no. I was hysterical because she had to walk in the hallway. I was hysterical because she had to wish him luck. All I could think was, "Get the fuck out of my hallway. Get the fuck out of here!" And all I could say was, "It goes away, it goes away, it goes away," repeating in hundreds of times as tears ran like streams down my soaked cheeks, where I was sure my blush had started to fade and my mascara was getting runny. It was like a mantra I needed to recite to keep myself from going insane and letting her have it, not that I would have honestly done anything anyway. Talk about psycho ex-girlfriend behavior...lol. But all of that, I know it affected me. Of course, just like what I had said, "It goes away," it did. The moment I stepped onto that floor and heard the roaring sounds of the audience waiting to be entertained for five and a half minutes...it all melted away like butter...until the moment I saw her standing behind his opening spot. A bit of dread rose from my stomach, through my esophagus, and ran a little lap across my vocal cords, escaping through my mouth, as I realized how lovely it was going to be tossing and *hopefully* (which I did, by the way) smacking my "hit-five". Totally consumed with the fact that she just had to be standing there practically touching him, I completely forgot the whole "Is the guard ready?" thing and forgot to set myself to turn around. But as soon as that music started, as the opening notes curdled the sounds of the crowd, my mind was consumed with the show and the next six minutes that lay ahead of me. My show was decent to say the least, and the moment I stepped off the floor, I regained consciousness of my world and surroundings, my situations and apparent lack of necessity.

I can already tell that this is how the rest of the season will play out, but worse. Not only will I get to watch the whole carry-my-bag-here, carry-my-equipment-there thing, but now with them actually dating, I'll get to experience full-frontal displays of relationship behavior that really should be played out someplace else. I'm only afraid of running into them and 1) not being able to look away and in turn looking totally stalker-like, 2) trying to avoid them, but not being able to...after all, a high school can only be so big, 3) running in the opposite direction to complain to the nearest person I know, and later be told by him that it's none of my business and that it shouldn't bother me because it isn't my business.

I have to admit, I'm especially afraid of the last one. Specifically the last detail in the last option. Personally, I think I have every right to let something like this affect me. I mean, I'm not a weak person, so hopefully as the weeks go on, I'll be able to get used to the idea that he's a total dick for doing this, and she's totally oblivious to the fact that the "turn-around girl" is his ex (but that's just me making a justifiable excuse for her). But still, this next show this weekend is right before the Monday of our would-be anniversary (which doesn't deserve a capital letter anymore...lol). I'm absolutely dreading it, to be honest. Back at the show where all my nightmares (ok, total exaggeration) materialized before my eyes. But like I was saying, I think I'm justified when saying this behavior is allowed to affect me for a little while. I'm just really afraid that people will start talking to him about it like usual, saying "Don't you even see what you're doing to her?" or something to that effect. Maybe they won't care, but what if they do say something? I know this response in the case that they do. "Well it's no one's business but my own, so she shouldn't even care." Typical Carlos. Go figure. I hate that I know his reactions and I hate that I know him better than this new girl does. And what I hate most is that he knows me better than anyone and doesn't even care.

My mom's told me about a million and one times to just cut my losses and move on. "Be a bitch, Kristina, because all he's ever been to you is an asshole. You deserve to be happy so just forget him." She's right. I know she is, but still, all this animosity and hatred. Its like it emanates from his eyes if ever, by chance, we happen to be looking in each other's direction. And I hate the looseness of this ending. I hate not having at least a friend out of these 11 hectic, mind-blowingly ridiculous months. I hate it. But most of all, out of everything I claim to hate, everything I say I hate the most, I can't stand, can't stand the fact that he doesn't care anymore. They tell me it won't last, but I don't even care anymore. How could I have let this escalate like this? How could I have let him slip away like sand through open fingers. The truth is I blame myself for every bit of torture he's inflicted upon me these last few weeks. They also say I shouldn't. But he and I both know the real answer. And that would be that I should. I should seriously hate myself right now.

It seems like every new year, there's always a blog that's supposed to be inspirational...about how the last year was and how you hope the new year will bring in higher hopes and fresh starts and health and great relationships. And it just occurred to me that that probably won't happen. You forget your new year's resolution by the time February rolls around and then begins a whole new year pretty much just like the last, with the exception of different events. I think I've come to terms with the fact that I don't believe there's a such thing as keeping to your new year's resolution, and I'd like to believe that simply wishing health on someone will provide it. Unfortunately the sad truth is that people will die. The truth is that some will get sick. Some will become terminally ill. Of course, that's not to say that others won't be born, or will not be nursed back to perfect health. Just because I'm looking through the dirty lenses tonight doesn't mean I don't acknowledge the fact that there is a clean, bright side to the spectrum.

I think the truth is just that I'm scared for 2008. As great of a year this has been built up to be, it's all expectation. And what if this year isn't what I'm built it up to be? I know, I know. There's a little bird on my shoulder telling me exactly what you're probably thinking right now. "Well, don't think it won't be great, because if you keep telling yourself that, it'll turn out exactly like you say." I know. But I feel comfortable with my doubts. And the truth is I like to prove myself wrong. I like when the circumstances of life come-a-knockin' and tell me when I haven't predicted right. Because that way, I can't be disappointed. I think a lot of people understand this mind set. I think there are a lot of people feel the same way, whether they admit it or not... Who knows.

But the fact of the matter is that I'm really trying to fight this growing parasitic urge to describe all these nonexistant hopes for 2008 just so I don't have to face reality when they don't happen. I'm trying to fight the urge to say that Carlos and I will stay together and experience our first happy summer together, experience another Christmas, see our anniversary. I'm trying to fight the urge to say I'll move in with my mom and finally be on my way to womanhood with her to guide me. I'm desperately trying to fight the urge to say I'll be happier this year...that this year is the year when everything changes, because lord knows as soon as I say it, there for my hope. As soon as I admit that I want something, out pops the bottom, making the cup that holds all these hopes and desires completely useless.

But who am I to say that my hopes never materalize? Who I am to look at life in such a depressing manner? Me...who has so much. Me. It's almost shameful. But look at me. What else can I do if there is no room for complaint? Sit and stare. Sit and stare...