It was ten o' clock and I was getting uppity because he said he was going to call but he didn't. And I was gonna be home on a Saturday night. I felt more depressed than I had in a long time.
He called at 10.45 and I wanted to be mad-- but instead I was choking back tears. I fought with my mom about letting me out of the house and she finally gave in. He got here around 11.30 and we picked two movies to watch. Groove and Stigmata.
Stigmata didn't work in his VCR. We watched Groove and he liked it. He has the most adorable laugh. But my mind can't help going back to what everyone said before. They said he was selfish. In some respects I can totally see it... in others he seems so self-less. Maybe he is one of those things... taking the shape of his containers.
Whatever. I held his hand. His hands aren't soft but I love holding them anyway. Sometimes I think I hate him, I was on the verge of tears as I was waiting for him to show, and then when he came there was nothing I could do to suppress my smile. I have no clue why being in his presence makes me so happy. Just seeing him makes me forget my tears. It's like a mind-control. He is my drug and I need it always.
He ate more of my bracelet. I hugged him tonight when I got out of the car instead of him to me. What if my fears are true? What if he is no longer confused about his ex and our few weeks were his rebound? What if I am back to my niche as his friend, the little girl? The what-if's are toxic and they are making me go out of my mind.
His mixed signals aren't helping.
But I can't tell him the truth. I can't tell him I love him and that he makes me happy by just being alive. I wouldn't compromise our friendship for anything. (Which was actually why Travis broke up with me. Sick.)
Superfriends is later on tonight. I want to go, but then I also want to watch Adult Swim and tape the new Space Ghost episodes. And I am broke.
I've gotten all of my friends addicted to Citra.
I am getting depressed again. I don't think I should allow myself any caffeine. I'm sure that was the catalyst. Vivarin always makes me manic. I was so happy over the summer and now it just creeps in and takes me by surprise. It says, "Katie, you are my bitch. You cannot be alone and at peace. I will haunt you. I will shove the most painful memories in your face. I take great pleasure in your tears. I will make you miss those things which you can never again have the most. I will make you think you hate your loved ones so that you will turn away from each other. I will make you do stupid things that make everyone think you are crazy. I will make you act like the doctor needs to put you in the abusive Vallejo mental hospital where they will call you fat because that's what they did to Heather."
Maybe I just need sleep. I'm extra crazy when I don't sleep. But who is to define insanity? Maybe I need to stop thinking so much. I need to invent a switch that turns off my mind. Maybe I need to take my Neurontin tonight and coat my receptors a little bit and then I will be on my way toward good health. It plateaus, but maybe it wears off. Like tire-tread wears thin.
So now I think I am going off to coat my receptors and to test Stigmata in my VCR.