Memories, All Alone In The Evening . . .

God, I am so mad at Jason right now! No . . . it isn’t anger. It’s . . . I don’t even know what it is. Frustration, I suppose. I don’t feel like we’re best friends anymore. I mean, he was the one last night who said that there was too much for us both to hash out in one night, and I was actually looking forward to talking today, clearing the air so to speak, but all it’s done is get thicker. It’s like that fog thing Dolly talked about. I’m trapped, and I’m surrounded, and I have no way of getting free. I don’t know him. I don’t think I’m as important to him as he wants me to think. I mean, it’s nine days till Christmas, and I’m miserable. My cat may be slowly dying, Jason . . .

I don’t even know what to say about him. I am pissed off at him in one respect. Back my junior year, he thought that I hated him after everything that happened. I’m remembering more and more things that should have told him I didn’t, and that I think he was a fool for not picking up on! I cared about him so much back then and the only reason I gave up was because I thought that he didn’t care about me, so why shouldn’t I harden my heart? I know it’s a years past anger, but it still burns inside my mind. I don’t care about extenuating circumstances, I don’t care about any of that. There are so many things . . .

I mean, I tried to continue talking to him, I said to him that he and I had to confront his mom, because what she was doing wasn’t right. How the Hell is that hating him??? I don’t know what I feel towards him right now. And it drives me insane that I can’t talk to him about it, because he’s not online and he’s not in his room. Damnit, I want to hash this out, but it’s not something that’s one sided!! After everything that both of us said yesterday, there’s no way that he doesn’t have things to get out. I don’t think I can keep doing this. I don’t think I can keep fighting these battles with him. But if I don’t, our relationship would turn into nothing more than superficial comments and such. We’d laugh, we’d say how things were going, but that’d be it. And I don’t want that. But I don’t know if I’m strong enough to keep it from happening. And I know, just in my gut, that he wouldn’t do anything to stop it if I were to give up. He’s too used to being private, closed-off, introverted, whatever. And except for one outburst which he insists was “nonsense” and more or less a fluke, he doesn’t seem to acknowledge that that’s a bad thing!

“A warning to you, you have been marked. Learn to fear the shadows, for more than your life is at stake.”

I can’t help feeling like that first person in his dream. The one who gets killed by the shadow thing, but is completely unmarred after it happens. I’m completely unmarred, physically, but my mind is in complete turmoil. This isn’t the time of year that I should be depressed, but . . . I am.

I mean, how can he not understand? Am I that unique in this mindset? Is it just me who looks at a flower blossoming amidst a field of weeds, and smiles, just because it’s so out of place, but so beautiful? Am I so odd in finding simple wonder in Christmas lights blinking next door, and it, for me, meaning that Christmas is officially here? Is watching the sunset and being so captivated by it’s colors something that no one else experiences? Am I the only one who enjoyed making snow angels as a child? Who enjoys making them now? The only one who thinks that letting a part of yourself remain a child is a good thing? That no one can completely grow up, because if we do, we lose something forever, that no one should lose? Am I the only one who dreams? Who fantasizes? Who lets my imagination run rampant on a dark night after watching a horror movie? The only one who, even today, would go into Nana’s house with someone and search for a secret passage, even though I know there isn’t on in there?

I mean, I have memories of summer days filled with slip ‘n slides, Fat Frogs, water balloons, dandelion chains, running around in the yard barefoot, fireworks like Roman candles being lit on the fourth of July, catching fireflies at night and keeping them in a jar for the night to watch them blink as I went off to sleep, and then releasing them in the morning, having a contest to see who could catch the most fireflies, getting an ice cream cone and trying to keep up with it as it melted and threatened to get my hands all sticky, days when we would have the BBQ and I’d sit down at the end of the driveway with a big piece of watermelon, and it didn’t matter if I ate seeds, because I could spit them in the yard . . . Wow, that whole thing is one sentence. Talk about a run-on . . .