My mind drifted on to the D.C. trip we took some time in May. I remember one moment when we were in the Pentagon and everyone was intently listening to the Admiral or whatever he was. Now that I think about it, it was strange seeing the students in a fixed trance. I remember watching HP and JM standing side by side. HP looked like the ideal girl: smart, thin, developed, humble and whatnot. Meanwhile, JM stood slightly taller, his shoulders broader than hers, his head held high and his jaw refined. I looked at them, the ideals, and back at myself. I looked like an odd mix of them, one side never in tune with the other.
Fast forward to now. I’m listening to Wait for Me by the Runaways. My mind drifts back to those two thoughts. How long has it been since the D.C. trip? Two, maybe three weeks? I wish I were better at keeping track of time. Anything past a week is indistinguishable from an eternity. I think about that trip once more. I despised the museums and their pointless attempts to shove information down your throat with overwhelmingly large texts and exhibits that jump out at you. The monuments, however, allowed me to interpret them for myself. There, I could just think and see. I could just be. There, I contemplated many things, mainly about my friendships and my almost-kisses that left me disappointed.
Now I think about that quote. Out of the times I spent with HP, I enjoyed times where we simply embrace each other and kept our mouths shut for long periods of time. I remember glancing at the Gettysburg Address at the Lincoln Memorial, not really reading it. HP approached me and assumed I wanted to be alone. I said, “No, stay.” She sits with me; I put my arm around her, enjoying the silence. I barely spent a second with her and RS and SCH and maybe RG approach us, asking HP to take pictures and whatnot. It’s like I was invisible, intangible, and nonexistent. I sat there, frustrated, wondering if she understands a thing.
It’s not fair.
It seems like she never asks what’s wrong and I never answer when the opportunity comes to speak. For some reason, it’s like both of us would stop caring eventually. What’s the point? I dream of confrontation. I am then unprepared for the real situation. I am stopped short. It seems that in my mind, I fall to my knees. I dream of stopping. Didn’t work out so well last time.
Now? I’m having this conversation with MR. Things are stranger than ever. Not much tends to make sense, except for tangible things like paper with instructions. You want to know how my conversations or attempts of confrontations with HP end up? We've tried talking, not much comes out of our mouths. I tried ending the friendship, it failed. Every time we DO talk, the conversation ends in "Oh, but I still want to be friends with you, blah blah blah blah". I'm sick of it.
02 Jun 2011, 12:04 am
