Early Morning Panic - 6/28/2007 in 2005 - 2007: High School

Molly called yesterday and left a message on my answering machine. She said that she wants to see me again and is sorry for the way she has treated me. She was crying. She said that I could call her back by a certain time that had already passed by the time I got the message, but that after that she was going to California until Monday.

I chose to write about Speedy instead of this yesterday because I had nothing to say about it. I still don't. I don't think anything about it, and I don't feel anything about it. After I got the message, I tried very hard to listen to my intellect and to my emotions to see what they had to say. Neither of them had anything to say at all. Everything was silent in my mind.

Now everything is very noisy. So noisy that I can't make sense of anything. I am in a lot of pain, and all the pain is making me panic, and I can't clearly articulate why. (Besides "It's one in the morning" which sort of goes without saying.)

Here is some of what I can pick out from all the noise: "If they've had sex, I will kill myself. I love them. I care about them so much. I miss them, I can't help but see their faces and tell their second hand stories, all the time. And all of those conversations are a part of me, forever, and I love them, it fills me up. But the sight of either of them is so painful that I have to get away from them, I have to get away from here as quickly as possible and never, ever look back. I have to forget about them. They can't have had sex. Nothing could be worse than that, they can't have, I'll kill myself. I have to get away from them, it's not worth it. I can't. I don't understand this. I've always loved Dave, maybe, and Julian was just a sham. But no. No! No one can tell me I'm not in love with Julian Miller. I know I've been wishy washy and that I've stopped loving him and that I've had feelings for other people and that he can be explained away by my romantic issues. I don't care. I know what's beautiful. I know what's sacred. And you can't tell me that my love for Julian Miller is not absolute. It's pure, and fuck Dave and fuck Speedy for dirtying it. There is nothing more important than him. There is nothing more important than this feeling. There is nothing deeper and more desperate than this. And I know it doesn't make any sense and maybe it's not even real, but no one can tell me it's not love. No one believes me, but they don't know. You can't. No. I don't care. I don't care. I have to get out of here. They can't have. I'll kill myself."

This is what was going on a few minutes ago, at least. The soft glow from the screen of my mother's laptop has quieted things down a little. I will be okay. All I need to do is insert the internet like a pacifier, and my mind will be calm.

Do you know what I did for almost the entire day today? I knitted. I decided to try to take up knitting again because I figured something mindless like that might be good for my OCD. I figured it might be a good method of relaxation. Unfortunately, I am capable of obsessing over almost anything, and I ended up frantically knitting for eight hours in what was anything but a relaxed state. I can't fucking stop knitting now. I already hate knitting.

Speedy has not done anything interesting since saying he plans to attend the Jay Goldman quintet concert in Boston at 8:37pm. Molly did post on his wall at 11:43pm, which means that she has internet access where she is, but I am still waiting until Monday.

I am more tired than I usually am at 1:28am. I am, in fact, fucking exhausted. But I am afraid that the second I am separated from the internet I will panic again.

Maybe if that happens I will do another row or two of knitting, and see if that helps.