I needed a “someone” now. Who wouldn’t? I needed someone to understand me, in a way that my family wouldn’t. Y, I thought, would be just the one. X had come and gone, thanks to that little anonymous message calling me a worm.
That had been a bad idea, ‘cause I’d been in a very bad mood, and I’ve never really gotten used to the idea of people calling me insulting names. So, Y it was. We’d become friends, I was sure, and surely, surely, she must have seen that there was more to me than meets the eye.
But no, that was not to be. The stupid bitch was still wrapped around the one time that I had snapped at her. She was blind to her own stupid comments about me, all the times that she had called me things, all the times she’d told me to go to hell, all the times she’d made faces at me… she could dish it out, but she couldn’t take it. Oh, she told me where to go, all right, and she even told me what I could do once I got there.
It was a breakdown, I’m sure of it. I remember nothing of the hour-long walk back home. Even mama noticed that I was inordinately quiet that day. But I have no other memories of the day. I can recall days with a subtle vagueness, in that I know approximately what I did, or what I must have done, even if I don’t actually remember doing it. But that day’s a complete blank, even the day after I actually lived through it. There’s a mist, and little else.
The journal and cutting came next. One was to say all the things that I couldn’t say, to write out all the words in my head without caring about order or sense. The other was to drain my anger at the world, ‘cause mama didn’t appreciate the one time that I stabbed and ripped up my mattress. I never admitted it, but there you go. The cutting progressed to just making sure that I was really there, and not just a dream. Madness, I know, but I kept up the illusion of being a slightly eccentric genius, who is sane if you get right down to it. And that was all that counted at the time. No one ever knew, because I chose not to tell them. And it would’ve stayed that way, had it not been for J.
I called her Blue Jay a few days after we became friends. She liked it, I guess. I’ve always been good at coming up with names at people. And there’s nothing really wrong with calling a girl “Blue Jay”, is there?
I can’t imagine why I even became interested in her. I think it’s because she was the only girl in my English class who ever smiled at me, ME, and not just a wall. But really, she was a bit of a non-entity. I would’ve never noticed her, had I not shared chocolates with her while waiting for the English teacher, Couch. And even then, I didn’t really catch her name until I wrote it down, under the pretense of asking the correct spelling. But no, she was a non-entity, and I suppose I felt that that would be the only sort of girl who could ever be interested in me.
She already had a boyfriend, and I should have given up there and then. But I didn’t. And I can’t stop now, either, with M. I know that she has a boyfriend too, but that doesn’t stop me from trying to get closer to her. I am so sick, it isn’t funny.
Well, things were not going well for me. I’d taken 19 credits during Spring, I was missing classes, and suddenly, I stopped caring about anything. I told Blue Jay about the cutting, and she gave me her sympathy and support. And I took advantage of it. Sick little bastard, aren’t I? I held her hand, and I let her hug me, and I kissed her. I am just so sick.
She caught on, finally, and told me that she felt that we shouldn’t meet. She put it as gently as she could, and I guess it’s more than I deserve for the way I treated her. I had another period of blankness, in which I slipped further behind in my work… and suddenly it ended.
Perhaps suddenly is a bad word. I think I should allow myself a little credit, because I did pull myself out of it. I had a couple of big assignments, and I buckled a bit under the pressure, but I didn’t break. I put my nose to the grindstone, and I worked, and I nearly caught up. At the end, though, I was not proud of my meager achievements. I didn’t fail anything, and I’m glad, but I didn’t do as well as I should’ve. I’m just glad I didn’t lose my tuition waiver.
But I had to lie to my family. I know that I’m under probation, and that’s bad, but my family doesn’t know. I don’t really feel the squeeze just yet, but at times, it does feel as though I’m staring into a bottomless chasm, and I keep wondering how long it’ll take me to hit bottom if I decide to jump in.
I question my Lord at times like this, and I wonder why He doesn’t love me enough to give me an easy way out. I wonder why He would even allow me to suffer in this way in the first place. But then, I think about the sort of person I would’ve been if I hadn’t lived through what I’ve lived through thus far, and I look at the people around me, and I feel proud. I am a better person than they are. I know in my heart that I would never hurt anyone because I’m mean, or for the sheer pleasure of hurting someone. I don’t believe that I ever could. And I have regretted every time that I have hurt anyone, even by accident. I never meant to hurt Blue Jay. It’s just that I have no control over myself. O Lord, I feel so sick.