I realize this is incredibly long and I apologize. Apparently, it turns out I had a lot more to say then I originally thought I did… and it became a lot more self-involved than I planned it to be.
Sorry. Not that any of you plan on reading it anyways, so this was more for myself than anything.
2010 started out rough, but ended on a much better and hopeful note. Thank god for that.
2011 started out nicely.
New Years Eve found me at my best friends apartment and when the clock finally struck 12, we were surprised at having almost missed it. For the most part, we were high out of our minds. We didn’t have alcohol, so weed was our answer. We all cheered when the ball dropped on the screen of the little TV on the floor of my friend’s apartment and went crazy with our silly string and confetti and poppers. It was truly a magical moment, that’s the only way I can put it. Everything seemed to be in slow motion – the glittering confetti falling to the floor, the silly string that was getting on my hair and tread into the carpet, the happy faces. I wanted that moment to last forever.
New Years 2011 was fucking magical... that may or may not have been the result of drugs.
I’ve heard that how you spend your new years is how you’ll end it. That night, I wanted to believe it. I wanted to believe that this year would be a good one and that maybe this year I’d try harder to keep my resolutions. We’d all written them on balloons and released them off the balcony, letting the dark night swallow them up whole. I’m sad to say I probably did not keep my resolution, because for the life of me, I cannot recall what it was in the first place.
That night, I was surrounded by a lot of old friends that I’d already begun to fall out of touch with. It’s weird to say that because I’d only been off at college for one semester, 4ish months, yet the distancing had already started. Looking at the faces around that room that night, there are only two people in that entire apartment I still really talk to. The rest don’t know me anymore. So much has happened to me that they’d never be able to fathom. I don’t know them anymore either… and worse, I don’t care a great deal.
Back at school, I knew I had to try harder 2nd semester to earn better grades and ultimately, to get my GPA up. Leaving high school, I’d had a 4.2 GPA and high SAT scores. But guess what? None of that shit matters in college (just like similarly, no one fucking cares that you played varsity this or that in high school… get over yourself). I didn’t do bad my 1st semester (3.4 GPA) but I wasn’t holding up to my own high caliber. It also didn’t help that when I came home, my relatives would ask me disappointedly, what happened? And to add to the disappointment, I was undeclared in my major and had no idea what the fuck I wanted to do. I still don’t.
After 1st semester/the end of 2010, one of my friends and possible interests found out that his ex was pregnant with his child. So that halted anything from happening. I rarely saw him 2nd semester. One of my other friends had been suspended for drugs. Two of my good friends got together. The dynamics of my usual little group changed and things were strange and different.
But this led way for another possible interest to develop.
I had 50 hours of court ordered community service that I had to complete by sometime in November, so I was busy with that a lot during 1st semester. I even skipped classes to get more hours in. I met a lot of peculiar people (mostly locals) during this time, but I never minded working there. I found it amusing to say the least and I also got hit on a lot by people of varying ages (and genders). That time period of my life was just very strange. Sometimes I miss it, but don’t know why. (2nd semester, when I had to write a creative non-fiction piece, my teacher told us that it could be about any experience, as long as it made you feel something. I ended up writing about my community service. I don’t know what it made me feel exactly or why it even stuck with me, but it just made me feel. That’s the best way I can explain it).
But it was while doing community service that I met someone. Didn’t really start talking/seeing him much ‘til the first few months of 2011 though. The words ‘talking’ and ‘seeing’ are very misleading in this case, because we weren’t really doing either. I don’t know what we were doing. We weren’t nothing, but not something. A lot of physical things ensued, and since I’m being honest, that became the basis of our relationship more than anything else. However, I was still more naïve than even I’d expected way back then. It’s complicated.
St. Patty’s Day weekend was a turning point. Two of my best friends were coming to visit during their spring break and I was excited beyond words. We had a good time. We had a drunk time. The first night we had to hitchhike because being directionally challenged and still not having the whole bus system thing down, I made us get off at a random stop.
I don’t remember when I started drinking the next night, but I do remember exactly what and how much of it I drank. I was a fucking mess. On the way to the party I started crying to my best friend (first and only time drunk crying, ugh) and saying lord knows what. But thank god, I stopped. The party was fun – trolled and drunk grinded on strangers with the bestie. I have a lot of scars from tripping and falling into potholes that night. Later discovered pictures that I have no recollection of.
That entire weekend was a sloppy mess... if only I could remember.
The next morning, my friends had to leave. I don’t remember what I said when I was crying, or why I even started. From what I’ve heard, basically it seemed like my new ‘interest’ was an asshole and yadda yadda yadda. But since one of the guys in my past was an exceptional asshole, my best friend was worried I’d get hurt again. Long story short, she told this new guy to never talk to me again (in a far from nice manner) and deleted his number.
Things got shaky after that. My best friend and I talked and were okay. But I tried to contact him and apologize, but he never responded. He completely cut contact with me after that. To me, this was devastating. I don’t know why. I still don’t. I’m blaming a large part on the fact that I never got any closure, something that I haven’t received in the past either. To me, this makes things harder.
After that sloppy night, more of my friends from school now knew about this interest. I’d been keeping it a secret, except for my best friends from home, because I didn’t know how my new friends would react because of one distinct characteristic about him. They were probably bound to find out anyways, because I’d always disappear at late hours with vague lies about my whereabouts. I even earned the nickname “Sketchy Susan.”
I didn’t have time to dwell on it. I was still as busy as ever with school. And I was constantly surrounded by people 24/7. Even if I wanted to cry and wallow in self-pity and despair, which I adamantly did, I couldn’t. I was never alone. The only times I had to myself were in the communal showers, where the sound of the showers could mask my crying. Not that I cried too much.
Luckily, I was also taking a creative writing class that semester. I’d never been a fan of reading or writing poetry because I just didn’t get most of it, but poetry was what we started out with. It helped me a lot. I hardly talked to any of my friends at school about what I was going through. I’m a rather private person as it is. I don’t like feeling weak (how terribly dumb).
It also didn’t escape my attention that back in 2010 I’d been seeing a boy for a while, but we ended rather badly around March and I let this catapult me into months of depression. Really, I was just being fucking stupid and I despise that. And here I was again, March 2011, letting myself get worked up over a boy. The year had seemed to come full circle, and the irony was just too rich.
I remember April being pretty good. It was my birthday month. I got jello shots, a cake with ‘69’ candles, and lap dances for my birthday, among other things. I went to RVA to see my best friend. I went to a concert.
My friends and I are the classiest...
Anyways, school went well from what I can remember. I got a slightly higher GPA that semester and I even got an A in my public speaking class, which made me really happy because public speaking still scares me today. It may seem silly, but it was one of those things that helped me realize that I can truly achieve what I set out to.
The days were getting warmer, the weather nicer. I spent a lot of time between classes lying out on the drill field with my friends – tanning, goofing around, watching them throw a football. Things were nice.
One of my guy friends whom I’d only met around my birthday became interested in me. I’ll just call him ‘R.’ He was attractive. The attention was nice. To spare you the long story, it basically turned out that he’d been fucking one of the other girls in our friend group for a while. And when they weren’t on good terms, he’d come to me to chill or talk or flirt… or fall asleep in my bed with. Then ignore me again when they were good. So that was fun to find out. Honestly, it didn’t faze me as much as it could have because I never actually did like him. Like I said, he was attractive. The attention was nice. It was certainly a distraction and it helped to keep my mind off of the events that’d transpired in March.
School ended. Summer came. As I’ve been finding out every year for the past few years, it’s not the same anymore. It’s a sad fact.
I got a job at Men’s Wearhouse because my mom works there and some girl had just quit and they desperately needed more help during prom season. It was actually a fun job and I really liked the people I worked with, for the most part. I honestly had a crush on one of my coworkers for a bit, despite him being like 30. But I got over it. I was really busy working for the first part of the summer, but then prom season ended mid June. After that, my hours slowly became less and less until I barely worked 15 hours a week. I asked for more, but got none.
All of my friends were basically working or interning. Everyone was busy. So when I suddenly had all this free time on my hands, it was bad news. After I’d come home from school, I’d begun thinking about what happened in March with ‘Y’ (that’s what I’ll call him now). And now I had even more time to think about him. I spent hours laying awake in bed at night, going over all the time I’d spent with him. I hated that I could never fall asleep and I hated that I’d turned into this pathetic person. There were so many reasons that it was a good thing that things between ‘Y’ and me had ended. But whatever, I didn’t care. Feelings don’t work like that anyhow.
This past summer wasn’t bad or anything. I still had fun because after all, it is summer. But it was a pretty lonely one. I definitely spent way too much time on tumblr and I just kept finding things that seemed so relevant to me in my ‘heartbreak’ (not actually, but for lack of a better term). I was aware that this only fueled my misery but I couldn’t stop, nonetheless. It was my own doing. It was my own fucking choice. Like I said, I hated that I’d become this pathetic person. Like I said, summer wasn’t the same anymore.
‘Y’ actually texted me a few weeks before the end of summer. I was at a party and maybe a little bit intoxicated. It was upsetting. The things he said didn’t help me feel better either. Instead, they pissed me off. After that, I decided that he pissed me off. Was this what I needed to finally get past all of this nonsense? I knew he wanted to see me when I was back at school. I felt like I was now in the position of power. I was in control. This helped.
School started again mid-August. I was sad that I wasn’t as tan as I’d normally be this late into the summer. First semester was pretty all right. It was fun. I did really good grades wise. I’m a tiny bit closer to knowing what direction I want my life heading in (baby steps). Most of my classes were pretty interesting. Still good with my friends. Some bad things. Some emotionally bad/sad times. Some freak outs. So is life.
I ended up seeing ‘Y’ a few weeks into the school year. And then we basically started seeing each other weekly. But this time I knew I had to keep my distance. I was no longer as naïve. I knew I couldn’t be as emotionally invested as in the past. It’s complicated. I’m complicated. But I didn’t like the way he treated me. Not in person or anything, but just the way he’d easily blow me off through texts. It bothered me. And I knew I was starting to think about him too much. Even the fact that I let him bother me, bothered me. It showed me that I was starting to care too much.
And on the other hand, one my guy friends liked me. The same one who’d gotten his ex girlfriend pregnant and was now a father. I’ll call him ‘C.’ At least he actually liked me for me, i.e. flawed self and annoying sarcasm, and not just my body. I knew a few of my other guy friends also had crushes on me. I wasn’t really interested in any of them, except maybe ‘C.’
I didn’t know how I felt about ‘C’ and I told him that. I still don’t. I can’t honestly say that I like him in the same way, but there’s definitely something there. I wish I did. We are so strangely compatible and while there’s maybe something there, it’s not enough. I don’t think I’ve genuinely liked someone in a long time, but I remember what it’s supposed to feel like. But then again, I’ve never been friends with someone before falling for them. Maybe I don’t know what this is supposed to feel like. Either way, we’ve decided to be friends and to see where things go.
Back in October, I finally forced myself to try to talk to ‘Y.’ I always told myself I would every time I saw him, but then chickened out. But now that I knew other people whom I actually had a chance with liked me, I knew I had to. I couldn’t be a coward forever. I didn’t see him for 3 weeks after that. For us, that was a very long time. And the texting multiple times a week stopped too… which meant I could not think about him as much. I’d decided that I would stop texting him first, let him come to me, and actually follow through with that decision for once. I did pretty well.
I’d told him that I didn’t know if I wanted to see him again. I did. But afterwards, it was different. Don’t get me wrong, it was nice being with him and feeling a false sense of closeness and intimacy. That feeling is always nice and I think therein lies my weakness. But afterwards, I still didn’t think about him a lot or feel a great need to see him. Not that I never wanted to see him again.
This time, a month went by before I saw him again in December. I met his gay roommates. One of them told me I was pretty. We watched a movie. That was …different, but nice. He asked me out to dinner. That was …surprising, but nice. He blew me off. That fucking pissed me off. I’m tired of the shitty way he treats me. To be fair, I don’t think he’s an asshole at all. I just think he’s an asshole when it comes to me. I don’t know what will happen in 2012. I do know that he’ll try to talk to me again. Which is fine. I just don’t know how I’ll react. I don’t get or stay mad for very long because I usually don’t have enough energy to care. Same thing applies now.
1st semester ended well. I made good grades. The only thing that stands out jarringly in my memory is December 8th. Reading Day at my school. That was the day campus was on lockdown for four hours and I was stuck in my common room with all my suitemates and their friends. We were glued to the TV and constantly refreshing our social networking sites, praying that no one had gotten hurt after gunshots had been heard. Someone did. An officer died that day. I had no phone service and could not call/text, but I was surprised to hear from so many people I hadn’t seen or talked to in months. People I hardly thought about anymore, all asking me if I was okay.
Winter break has been all right. Nothing too eventful, nothing too terrible. It definitely didn’t feel like Christmas at all this year though, to me anyways. I’ve found that to be true every year, as I grow older.
2011 wasn’t absolutely terrible, it just wasn’t great.
Some things have changed: I got a new piercing, my mother has recently informed me that I’ve gotten fatter, and I have actually declared a major now.
Some things haven’t: I still go through bouts of self loathing and I still don’t know what I want to do with my life.
The thing is, I fully know why I loathe myself. It’s because I can see clearly that I over think and overanalyze and that I do things I know probably aren’t in my best interests, even as I’m doing them.
I’ve always known that I lack a great deal of common sense, and this doesn’t help me during my bouts of irrationability, which are fueled by my emotions. However, I am also a very logical person, so I can tell myself what I should do or think or feel because what I really think or feel… just isn’t good for me
Yet I don’t follow through, because low and behold, the heart is greater than the mind. I can’t always talk myself out of my feelings. Guess I can’t help or it. Or more likely: I still haven’t learned.
Being both an extremely emotional and logical person… is the worst. You let yourself fall to the emotional extremes – self loathing, depression, self pity, self consuming despair – and then you hate yourself for it. As you’re experiencing these emotions, you tell yourself you’re stupid and weak to be having these feelings because you know better and because clearly, it’s your own fault that you’re in this place and you could get out of it you really wanted to.
The thing I’m really struggling with right now is the fact that I have a great guy who’s actually my friend and who actually likes me for me. We could work out so well. I have no problem drunkenly hooking up with him, yet I can’t even say that I like him like him. Instead, despite the fact that ‘Y’ is an asshole to me and does not treat me the way I know I deserve, I’m still not willing to give him up. We could never work for so many reasons, and that’s fine. But if he showed any sign of wanting more than the thing we sorta have sorta don’t have right now… I know I’d be willing to give it a chance in a heartbeat.
I hate the fact that I’m so willing, despite knowing that I don’t need him. I don’t have to give in to myself. I hate the fact that I know all of these things and can rationally tell myself what I should be doing. At this point, I’m trying to work on myself and why I feel the need to always fall into self-destructive behaviors. I inflict a lot of my own pain.
I’m complicated and I have issues. That’s what I want to work on in 2012. Fixing myself. I want to feel strong and beautiful and that I don’t need someone else to be okay.
How you start your new year is how you’ll end it. Sadly, that won’t be true for me. I started out 2011 in a smokey haze of delirium like happiness.
But as of now, I have no plans. More accurately, I could have plans. But at this point in my life, I don’t know how much I care to deal with awkwardness around people I truly don’t care about. When midnight rolls around, you’ll most likely find me alone. In my room. Anyone care to join?
A lot of things can happen in a year.
2011: the year of the letdown.
