We are driving to the movie, Lizz tells me that she knows that I keep my feelings for a person from them completely, so whenever I say anything vague or negative about another person, or people in general, she assumes I am telling her my feelings (for her) without actually having to tell her. I respond with saying I tell her more than she thinks, and do tell her everything that I think about her. She complacently says "okay", to which I had to know if she was vaguely referring to Austin. "Are you talking about Austin?" I hear myself saying shamelessly, after she explained that she was eluding to no one in particular. She assures me she is not, and whether or not she is lying, I believe her.
On the car ride back from the movie I am doing my new favorite thing (or old favorite thing that I recently rediscovered as amazingly satisfying). This totally immature perversion is essentially picking a fight to 'open a dialogue'. I say something upsetting, or an emotion I know is far better off going unshared, and drop it like a bomb so we can clean up the wreckage together, for the sake of bonding. As we drove up Jackson street I recall just saying one intentionally pathetic thought after another. She always meets me half way, engages and cares and tries to work it out no matter what, I can't stand to be around myself for it.
It's two in the morning and Lizz is calling. I answer without a thought, and she asks me to come pick her up. As I am pulling a sweatshirt on, I receive a text that reads "I would not ask if it weren't 100% necessary". As I drive down 47th, I contenplate my reply (which I had already typed out "I know"), but in fear of how it would be perceived, I did not write back at all, even picturing her feeling guilty standing outside a bar on Telegraph waiting in the dark and cold. I felt such embarrassment for trusting her so totally, humiliated by how much I sincerely did not mind at all. I've been getting so much better at trying my hardest NOT to make everything about myself, which is why in the car I force out "so I'll take you home", not even with so much as an undertone of apprehension or disappointment. Lizz says no, that she wants to come to my house, I then had to conceal my happiness that this what what she wanted (even with my previously proposed suggestion). I attempted, my very hardest, not to convince myself of all of the thousands of reasons she did not in actuality wish to come over.
She profusely apologizes on the ride home, then apologizes for apologizing so much. I had made a stern promise on my way to find her that I would not reprimand or try to help for a single second, and of course ended up saying stupid shit about how she should do what she wants, stop catering to people, and become a broken record of all of the points she knows are hard for her. I apologize then, saying it doesn't help hearing these things said aloud like this, she agreed so passionately that I felt even worse, but was at least glad I was aware of it.
We get upstairs, she's "starving", and I can't help with that either. She said that it's three in the morning, we should just put on a movie so she can fall asleep. I did not make a bitter joke about how I would inevitably be awake the entire night through, so at least there is that. "I've never seen Annie Hall", and soon I am turning it on. She is sound asleep instantly, and I am wide-eyed, panicked and full of more self-loathing than the whole day accumulated. I watch as neurotic, controlling, miserable, complaining, Woody Allen verbally harrasses this beautiful, innocent, naive, sweet, girl who doesn't yet know she is worth more than his grasp (and gripes). As he picked away at her, talking for hours on end about how he knows what would help her best, or just about himself, I had the horrific realization that this movie was not put on by chance, but a great fate played a role. I saw myself reflected in the blinding four am television screen.
In a deep slumber, Lizz, who had fallen asleep with her arms entangled in mine, pulls away and slides as far away from me as possible. I know that in these hours my mind plays tricks on me, but nonetheless, I am too exhausted to fight the constant battle, I forfeit, and allow myself to think these influenced and warped ideas. I was once again, shrunk down to one of those people who feels no worth when a person is sleeping facing the other way. I hated myself for it.
I spent the night mimicking her sleeping positions, tossing and turning, getting up and lying back down, and mulling over ever mistake I've ever made.
I told Lizz exactly none of this. I wanted to be a pure and perfect positive light that shone on her, wordlessly guiding her towards peace, happiness, and all of the wonderful things in life she was so insanely deserving of. If I was less than the very best version of myself, I would spend most moments of our friendship waiting for her to leave, abandon me as I have been left before, will be left again. For who I am.
She has already stated (yesterday) she finds me secretive and withholding, she has no idea I am playing coy. I can't tell her that I was dreaming of her as she called my phone last night, or that I feel like I could burst with the honesty of my love for her, and I see myself as a last resort friend. I do hide what I feel for my friends, I hide being so madly in love with them.
We are in the car, just about back to the house and I said (hoping to be comforting in any way), "We all have our shit we are working on."
I was suggesting at my own raging insecurities, short-comings, and nonexistent self esteem.
I have not a clue what she was thinking I meant.
You cannot alter the past, but you can alter the future.
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