I finished all my work today. I wrote a nine page paper on democracy and revolution in thirty-six hours without crying. Some sort of miracle.
And I suppose that this is fabulous news. I’m finished with high school. Go, me! But it doesn’t feel the way it’s suppose to. I don’t feel the same rush to get out and begin a life away from everything at home. I like the people here.
I know that every relationship is ephemeral. People either leave or die. And sometimes I wonder why I care so much, why I try so hard not to lose them. I can write all the letters in the world and call as much as possible, but they always end up leaving. I can’t tell you how many times I’d exchange numbers with someone in the hospital or in the partial hospitalization program (PHP), knowing that it was just a formality, something you did when you said goodbye. I was so hopeful that I’d go book shopping with my roommate from the hospital and it never happened no matter how hard I tried.
But sometimes, albeit rarely, I leave too. Creepy Boy from PHP calls me and I send him to voicemail immediately and delete his messages without reading them. It isn’t so much that he calls me crying and professing how much he likes me as it’s me trying to forget all of last year. I rarely respond to anyone I met during that time. When I moved from D.C. I let go of everyone. I didn’t want to be reminded of the bullying when I was eight and ten, even if we were friends when I left. I regret it now and miss them a lot.
I wonder what will happen next year. I love the people I’m around immensely, but I know how things will go. One way or another they’ll become closer to their new friends and stop returning my calls. When they come home we’ll spend time with each other for old times’ sake and not because they genuinely want to see me. The conversations will become stilted, and I won’t fit into their new social scene. No matter how hard I try, things will change, and I hate it.
I am sad and very inarticulate tonight.