Come Round Soon

I keep hopin' he'll come round soon.

That's one of the lines from a song by Sara Bareilles. It perfectly describes how I've been feeling about Derrick. That's not his name. I'm just using it to protect his privacy. I'm actually trying not to think about everything.

It's hard to do. Really hard. And while I think about him, I think about what he's doing and where he's going, but what I find myself thinking about the most is: Is he thinking about me?

Does he care that we haven't talked for a week, and that he's ditched me twice in a row now for other people? Does he care that I ditched him on Saturday without calling him to see if he would call me back? Did he notice?

I don't think about the answers to those questions because I fear that if I knew them, I wouldn't like what I would hear. And maybe that's why I've been hanging on to this whole situation, is because I don't want to face the reality that anything we've had before is slowly transforming and shaping into something I don't recognize...and it's killing me...and our friendship along with it.

For me it's become this twistedly toxic game that I'm playing by myself. This game of self-torture, of 'What-can-I-do-next-to-make-myself-more-miserable?'

I want to be done with this game, so badly. So badly it hurts like hell. I want to go back to that person I was before I met him. That carefree person whose only concern was what to wear to school the next day and what grade he would get on his math test.

Now everything's evolved into something so much more complicated. All the pains of growing up are piling on top of me. Scholarship searches, financial security, school, homework, tests, theater. And on top of all this, Derrick.

Oh I know right now I'm sounding like some whiny queen, but...I'm not. I'm just...a child. I'm a child growing up and I'm fighting it. The classic case of the perpetual child right? I realize that I can't be a child forever and it sucks.

To be a child is to be ignorant, and to be ignorant is bliss. That's what it is. I'm no longer ignorant and I miss that ignorance. I miss not knowing what all this felt like.

Most people find love to be an amazing experience, one to cherish forever and hold on to. But what about those of us who (in the words of Kate Winslet in 'The Holiday') 'fall in love alone'? It seems that this too is unfortunately a part of life, and I'm one of those unlucky enough to be living it.

She was right, Kate. No matter how many haircuts you get, or how many outings you have with your friends, you still spend hours laying awake, going over every detail wondering how you could have misunderstood and how you could possibly have thought for that one tiny moment that you were actually that happy. That's exactly how I feel.

I wish I could have the gumption she had to tell her ex to bugger off, but I just...can't. I don't have it in me. Because for so long he has been an essential part in my life, and throwing that away is like throwing away a piece of myself. A piece of my life, and I'm afraid that once gone, I can never find that feeling again in someone else.

It infuriates me that I'm sitting here writing a blog about all of this when...he's probably out getting drunk or hanging out with that new guy I saw on his friends list, that he said he hung out with a few times. It makes my blood boil that I spend my time worrying about where he's going tonight and who he might hook up with while I sit at home and study over my lines for my high school's upcoming spring play.

What's worse is I can not find a soul out there to really tell all of this to. If he were not the guy I had fallen for, I would be sharing all of this with HIM over coffee right now at our favorite local hang out. My mother warned me against loving my best friend, but what did I do? I went and fell for him anyway. And what a double edged sword that turned out to be.

A part of me, the nice part of me, feels so bad about letting him go. Because he's my friend and we have great times together, so should I punish him by taking away my friendship just because I am in shambles over the fact that he doesn't love me back? How's that for a catch 22?

But the mean part of me, the side I find more and more exposed within myself as I go through this whole 'I'm-letting-you-go' thing, thinks that it's a good thing he has told me he doesn't love me so I can move on and thinks that I can finally completely cut out of my life those that don't benefit me. I can cut my losses and start anew in college.

The question of the past few weeks, and a good many more to come is: Is it my loss, or is it his?

Signed

A Fabulous Gay Man

Queen Trixie J.D. the First