Phaedrus said 10 years, 6 months ago:

This *is* directly from my profile, but a good pal o’mine and I agreed that the more people a man vents to, the sooner he’ll get tired of it and accept his feelings. Call it publicizing if you will.
To keep things anonymous, I’ve placed aliases on actual people. Here it all is.

Written 10/1/13
For years, I’ve been trying to give name to the characteristics about myself- or my attitudes, should I say. Are you fluent in emotional talk? Grand; I’ll get intimate. Are you someone I’m not exactly comfortable around, like someone looking for a friend in me? Not to worry, I’ll play along, make your jokes with you, and keep up the banter. I just appeal to a wide variety of crowds. Versatile. Flexible. And that’s where my self-description ends- punctual adjectives. I can talk with you as hours- no, as days go by, about politics, about science, about how the world came into being, but I can’t talk about myself for more than minutes.
There is, however, one concept that I find to be the most adequate of describing myself. That would be chameleonic, and why wouldn’t it? Whether it’s my natural color, or I’m faking it to make it, I strive to be acceptable, if not exceptional, wherever I may be, and come whatever may. Of course, this idea is riddled with problems; I tend to juggle attributes of conflicting personalities simultaneously, if that makes sense. As much as I enjoy economics, and the economist’s standpoint (where efficiency and the core of data are supreme), I have a love for humanism, and the feel-good individualism that it’s involved with. Too opposites, one guy. Chameleonic? That needs more reflection; I’m the only one who can completely figure me out.

I thought I’d give some insight to myself before I brought up anything else, seeing as I just defined what I think is (are) my most key characteristic(s). Little is this writing about me alone as it is how I mingle with my world and how it mingles in return.

10/1/13
You’ll find that this writing will become quickly romantic and teenager-ish. Disclaimer.
For a reference of time span, rewind to just more than a year ago. This was my freshman year of high school, if the age on my profile doesn’t speak for itself. I ended my first day of that term with an hour of biology- I remember being recommended for the course the year before. I walked into the classroom with high academic hopes.
Beforehand, all throughout that day, I had heard a number of times of a girl new to the district; she had been homeschooled until today and apparently, she was at least a year and a half younger than everyone in my class. I remember being nothing more than intrigued by this Guinness school record.
Back to said biology room. I can clearly recall finding a seat next to my best wingman (alias for this writing is Rush), only to be rearranged along with everyone else into tables of 4; the teacher was a man recovered from a brain tumor, and it showed. Last I heard of him, the obnoxious, dim-witted, and poor fellow was hospitalized for a second. At this table of mine, I remember my other greatest wingman to my immediate left (Art), an unimportant figure to my right, and…. And this girl across. Having been the first one today that I didn’t recognize, I correctly assumed it was her that was the youngest around (M).
Not that I recognized it as it happened, but I was outright swept away by her everything. She had, and still has, I might mention, this mesmerizing voice that carries the most eloquent and vivid ideas, and harbors the most epic knowledge I’ve heard come out of a person. I couldn’t say much then, and it wasn’t because I felt the infatuation; it was more so out of belittlement. M was so perfect- so characterized, so talented, so clever. All I could do was look into myself for something to match to her, then search, then ransack, but brought out nothing.
How did we get off on that day? I can’t find any memories on the specifics, but I remember leaving that day dazed and in wonder (which was when I was HOME, mind you- M lives astonishingly close to where I do, thus we share busses). As for M… I could do nothing but imagine, and that hasn’t changed one bit. I wish I knew what would come of this.

10/2/13
Rush and I tend to see each other outside of school on weekends, almost every one. Always its casual- we play some video games, duel with Pokemon cards, and simply walk some miles. The two of us, we just fit together. We never say it, but I think we live up to the definition of best friends, or something like that.
We’re fast forwarding now to a few weeks ago. September 15th, to be exact. The only changes of how I saw M were realizations- the ones that discovered I was head-over-heels. There was periodic talking between us, but that was where it ended. All the while, I had considered speaking up and coming forward with my thoughts and feelings, and every time I couldn’t rally up the courage in me. Feeling pathetic, I would always spend the next following days shamefully scorning myself.
The high school homecoming, scheduled for October the fifth’s night, was making a subtle approach, and Rush was imaginably reminding me, probing me for feelings towards any girls, and finding nothing more than, “No, I’m dating my studies for now.” I don’t quite know how, but he had spent the weekend rattling my cage, infiltrating my mind with homecoming. I knew that M was the only one I could will myself to ask, which already was virtually not in the cards. It was on this fifteenth that Rush had convinced me, with words similar to, “Well, guys are out asking the girls already. You’d better make a move,” which makes sense now; it’s a form of propaganda, only this many left in stock, hurry before we run out.
It was some small climax, and in it, I remember clearly seeking out one confectionary, being let down by it not being there, seeking out a second, being let down by its closed sign, and seeking out a third to be rewarded with a spending something like five dollars on a box of various chocolates in a gleaming golden box, a pink ribbon wrapped what looked to be firmly about it. I determined that tomorrow, a Monday, would be the day for bringing on the big homecoming question. Find her during lunch, ask the questions “Has anyone asked you to homecoming?” and “Then would you go to homecoming with me?”, and give no fucks about who was around to hear and see it.
And my mind… it was everywhere. What if she said no? What if she already had a man? What if she said yes? What if I became her man? Anyone under the pressure of the straying heart can imagine my racing, beating feelings. Sleep did not come easy, but I would be perfectly alert all of the next day. After all, I had to be at my best for M.

10/2/13
All I could do when I sat back down at my lunch table the next day was look at Rush from across and mutter, “Shit, that was it.” It was a yes on M’s part. I recall her looking only at the chocolate box, going, “Aawww…” and, without looking at me, said some casual yes. Hm, concerning. Nonetheless, I had walked away, one hand in my lion’s mane hair. I had only found out when I returned to Rush, but afterwards, I was shaking madly.
Something was different about me that still is, and it started when I paced directly towards the table of M and her three friends, a brilliant bravery, you could call it. Seeing and thinking of M didn’t make me cover myself up in a fake confidence, nor did I muzzle my personality for a moment so as to appeal to her. If it makes sense, I felt I’m deeper into myself, more comfortable with whom I am, and that I could make things happen, particularly with M. I don’t feel new, don’t feel masked, and don’t feel restrained… but renovated. Revolutionized. I figured out how to be more of myself, which I didn’t know was possible, and be willing to show off to the world. Or, at least when she’s on my mind or eyes.
Still, that was it. It was locked in and set for life. Right? I’m going to homecoming with the girl who’d made off with my attention and some of my feeling. All of that day and the next, I walked, thought, and felt like a king, that anything was achievable, and that life was only getting better and brighter.
I was a tad set off by somethings, though. Whenever we’d pass in the halls, I’d give M a smile, big or small, regardless, and search her for a reaction, maybe a smile back. She always kept a straight face, which was troubling. Additionally, I had wanted to talk to her personally, whether it be on Facebook or in person. Rush warned me grievously away from the idea, convincing me that it would bring nothing but awkwardness and discomfort. I was left to painfully wait out the silence.

10/3/13
Caffeine. I need my CAFFEINE, damnit. It’s been DAYS.
Those two days were made of gold. I really can’t describe them in any other way; everything I saw had a golden hue, even. Despite feeling so giddy and radiant, the workload had taken a toll, and on the Tuesday of that week, I found myself immediately flopping onto my bed and crashing upon returning home. It wasn’t until the early evening that I woke.
As I work on my academia at home, I always keep two links to the outside world open, my window aside: Skype, of which I keep in touch with Rush and Art through, and Facebook, which keeps me connected to everyone else that I know. It was when I opened up the second that I noticed a new message that I’d received. Heart pumping under the excitement when I noticed the sender was M, I opened it up.
It must have been the second line down when my racing heart screeched to a halt, as if avoiding falling from a cliff. The message went as follows, from what I recall of it,
“I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page about homecoming. I look forward to going with you, but I want it to be as nothing more than friends.
Thanks for the chocolates.”
I can’t quite relate that to anything. It was more of a foundation to relate future experiences that will twist up my mind into nooses to hang my feelings’ necks broke. There isn’t much here to remember; it went by in a blur of pacing, rocking, and wiping my eyes. Too many thoughts at once pecked at me, like a phalanx of news reporters and their microphones and cameras. This was why M couldn’t look at me when I smiled to her as she walked by, down the bus aisle, or when I waved to her as that bus rolled away. Hell, she very well could’ve been typing that blasted message up right then as she blocked me out against her iPhone.
But M had given me VIBES, too. It was freshman year when a boiler on the roof of the building overheated, leaking smoke and bringing in the fire department. Everyone was ousted, and the entire high school population waited around the building to reenter. My class, World History, was situated on the edge of what used to be a soccer field. M happened to be not even ten feet away, immersed in a flock of friends as girls do. At one point, she had “dropped” her backpack on my foot, that black backpack with a purple trimming on the back and zebra print trimming within the purple, and smiled as she said apologized, pausing for a moment. Unaware of what was happening, and failing to act, she scooped it up and disappeared in the mass again. After several long, hard minutes of reflection, I realized that M hadn’t dropped her black and purple and zebra backpack on my foot on accident- there was MEANING behind it. Maybe even flirtatious meaning. I still haven’t gotten over that yet. Why couldn’t I have been smart and noticed?
For Geometry, I arranged study sessions at my local Starbucks, since I was (erh, to say the least) the top dog of the class in the math zone. I was thrilled to see none other than M sign up, as did Art. It was for the finals, and I was several minutes late. Not that anyone had mentioned they’d be late, but when I arrived, parked my bicycle, and pulled the door inside (or did I push? Hmmmm…) to find only one person signed up seated- yes, t’was M. I planted myself across from her, we greeted, and I immediately (and dumbly) got to work, making magic happen with numbers and theorems on paper and my textbook. I noticed two things about M within the first couple of minutes: her face was a tad reddish (did that mean she was blushing?), and she seemed to be reluctant to talk. I grinned humorously and asked her if she felt awkward, being at a Starbucks table with no one but me, and, hesitantly, she nodded and gave a weak affirmative. I told her to call me weak (heh, and she did) when I decided to walk down to a gas station to buy caffeine. It wasn’t that I was needy of making a drink run early, it was out of awkwardness. I just wish I hadn’t left, and hadn’t asked how she felt. Why me.

Gradually, the shock faded, and I opened up Skype to prod Rush.
[9/17/2013 8:22:25 PM] Phaedrus: I just wanted to make sure that we are on the same page for homecoming, I look forward to going with you, but I don’t want it to be as anything more than friends. Thanks for the chocolates.
[9/17/2013 8:22:34 PM | Edited 8:37:19 PM] Phaedrus: My place at 5:00 AM if you’re feeling like a therapist.
[9/17/2013 9:13:00 PM] Rush: [Phaedrus]
[9/17/2013 9:13:16 PM] Rush: hows 5 30 at kroger?
[9/17/2013 9:13:45 PM] Rush: is that from [M]?

I couldn’t sleep that night.

10/3/13
The night went by in a hazy trance, not quite in sleep, not quite alert enough to be awake. Rush was early, peculiarly. As I saw him gradually approach from a distance while I stood waiting in the large, lit up grocery store parking lot, I glanced at my bare wrist and then at my phone for the time. Around 5:20. I looked up to the blackened and cloudy sky as I closed the distance with Rush.
“Howdy,” I said, clearer than I thought I would.
Rush nodded back rhythmically, as if bobbing his head to some tune. “Sup,” he replied, or something along that line. I don’t keep up with slang.
“I’ll try not t’crack, but I can’t make any promises.” I felt pathetic as the words became known, thus I kept my eyes to the ground. “You don’t hav’to stay if that happens.”
As if I made a shaky guess, Rush forcefully stated, “I’m staying. I came here to talk to you.”
We chatted casually at first as we walked down to the nearest gas station, since I wasn’t willing to bring up M until I had gotten a cold energy drink down my throat. I paid for both of us, and, now walking back along the brick sidewalk and down a commercial street, Rush brought it up. “So, sucks man.”
“Yeh, so it does.” Already, I could feel that this topic would grow more awkward between us. I carried on, my voice shaking a hint, “Isn’t there some way out? Being friends’ll hurt.”
As if he had been expecting me to ask, he firmly claimed, “No.” Ouch. I couldn’t speak, and so he spoke more. “Things could be worse.”
That put some defiance in me, and I disagreed, “I don’t know… if I was captured in war, I’d rather be executed than publicly beaten or disgraced.”
Though he said nothing, I heard him scoff. A silence dragged out, until I broke it. “But what’s worst,” I said quietly, watching my feet walk, “is that she couldn’t face me, like she was scared of me, or something.” An analogy formed in my head. “Like she put her dog down with a gas chamber.” That attracts Rush’s interest, creepily. “I was inside, wondering where she was, and in came the zyklon B.” I got a quick, short laugh out of him- good. Even though I let it out sadly, any reaction was what I was hunting for.
By now, we had been walking through the park. I knew that my house could be no more than five hundred steps away. (If you’re visualizing anything city-like, I live in a suburb and just so happen to be on a street next to basically everything. Woot.) We’ve talked on about my stress, where it came from, and what I’m going to do in the face of emotional danger. “No, [Phaedrus], you two are now friends,” I remember him saying, completely confident in what he thought, “Sorry, but that’s the way it’s going to be.” Shortly afterwards, we part and prepare for another weekday.
Did Rush’s pessimism perturb me? That has a mixed answer. For the most part, yes, though temporarily. I walked home in a depressed defeat, though his haunting words eventually faded from my hopes. I’m still striving to make something of M and me, in my own ways, and Art’s been a true help, as has a special fellow from no place other than here. I can’t think about the doubts, because if I do, I could wonder why I’m trying and lose hope. I guess that can translate to anything you’re having trouble with. I don’t know, just a thought.

10/4/13
This is where Art comes into play. Time had passed, a week of it, and on the 24th, after dealing with so much of Rush’s depressing words, I sought out Art. Here’s how it went.
[9/24/2013 8:59:47 PM] Phaedrus: Update, [Art].
[9/24/2013 8:59:51 PM] Phaedrus: Hey, I have been in the hospital for almost a week, and I will be in here for 6 days more minimum. My legs hurt so bad I can’t walk, that’s why I’m still here. I don’t even know when I will be back at school. I won’t be able to make it to Homecoming this year. I’m really sorry.
[9/24/2013 9:00:16 PM] Art: Holy crap!
[9/24/2013 9:00:20 PM] Art: Is she all right ?
[9/24/2013 9:00:24 PM] Phaedrus: Migraine.
[9/24/2013 9:00:35 PM] Phaedrus: Happened later last week.
[9/24/2013 9:00:49 PM] Art: Ouch. Hope she gets better.
[9/24/2013 9:01:06 PM] Art: What the hell are you going to do now ? ;(
[9/24/2013 9:01:10 PM] Art: Not go ?
[9/24/2013 9:01:18 PM] Phaedrus: I’ll still go, I suppose.
[9/24/2013 9:01:31 PM] Phaedrus: I’ll find something to do, someone to chat up with.
[9/24/2013 9:03:09 PM] Art: Mmk. You don’t have to go. We could stay home and eat ice cream and watch movies togedaa. :/
[9/24/2013 9:03:18 PM] Phaedrus: Hah, no,
[9/24/2013 9:03:27 PM] Phaedrus: you’ve got [Art’s girl] to go to.
[9/24/2013 9:04:10 PM] Art: Yeah that’s true, but like the day after we could chill.All three of us possibly ?
[9/24/2013 9:04:16 PM] Phaedrus: Besides, you’ve got a thing for her, isn’t that right?
[9/24/2013 9:04:37 PM] Art: Yeah. :/
[9/24/2013 9:04:46 PM] Phaedrus: Well, go make magic happen.
[9/24/2013 9:05:05 PM] Phaedrus: I’ll find somewhere to go.
[9/24/2013 9:05:48 PM] Art: You sure ? I feel bad. You could come maybe possibly come to dinner wiith us ? I’ll ask my peoples.
[9/24/2013 9:06:11 PM] Phaedrus: Your peoples? Is this a social ring?
[9/24/2013 9:07:13 PM] Art: As in the group I’m going to homecoming with.
[9/24/2013 9:07:29 PM] Phaedrus: That a big one?
[9/24/2013 9:08:20 PM] Art: Naw. We have like 7 or 8 people.
[9/24/2013 9:10:12 PM] Phaedrus: Hm. I’m inefficient in big groups, but I could manage.
[9/24/2013 9:10:21 PM] Art: OMG !
[9/24/2013 9:10:24 PM] Art: IDEA !
[9/24/2013 9:10:28 PM] Phaedrus: Shoot.
[9/24/2013 9:12:15 PM] Art: So like maybe you could go visit her in the hospital with some flowers on homecoming day and bring like a little speaker with yah and just play some chill tunes. It’d be really sweet of you. You guys could just talk and what not.
[9/24/2013 9:12:40 PM] Phaedrus: Heh, I thought of that as you were typing it.
[9/24/2013 9:12:45 PM] Phaedrus: That’s brilliant.
[9/24/2013 9:12:56 PM] Phaedrus: Could you gimme a ride there?
[9/24/2013 9:13:11 PM] Phaedrus: :U
[9/24/2013 9:14:35 PM] Art: I’d have to see. But I don’t see why not. (:
[9/24/2013 9:14:47 PM] Phaedrus: Stellar, wingman.
[9/24/2013 9:15:39 PM] Art: Hehehe. Glad to help.
[9/24/2013 9:15:41 PM] Phaedrus: [Art], [Art], [Art],
[9/24/2013 9:15:44 PM] Phaedrus: I wanna thank you so much.
[9/24/2013 9:15:45 PM] Art: Yes?
[9/24/2013 9:16:28 PM] Art: Hahaha. It’s cool. Don’t worry about it.

I stopped him in the morning at school the next day, hugged him closely, and whispered a dear thanks in his ear. Why not? He deserved it.
And that would be my plan. I message M a day or two before the Saturday, October 5, ask where she was, see if she wouldn’t mind if I visited, made up for homecoming. The fight went on, and picking up my feet became easier.

10/4/13
Now we’re almost caught up to now on my venting story.
Today was the date for the homecoming football game. Our team was winning when Rush and I took off to go on a walk in the streetlight night. We were accompanied by another close friend of mine, [Vine].
But about the time before. It was a week of gritty determination, ready to do this, make this happen, and mentally preparing myself for this grand internal war fast approaching. I felt optimistic, and I looked forward to arranging this and carrying it out. That’s about all of that.
It was earlier today that I delivered the message, asking her if she’d be interested in being visited, to make up for homecoming. I noticed that M saw it within five minutes, but remained silent. That’s where the greatest pressure of this writing spawned from. I had a good time at the game, sure, and an even better time walking with Rush and Vine. I finally managed to get my hands on a can of Rockstar. (Felt so good. Christ, I wanted it hooked into my VEINS.) All through that evening and night, though, M was on my mind, taunting me with her silence. It wasn’t until Vine, Rush, and I had stopped walking to sit in the park close to the stadium when I let loose as much as I dared.
“Is it [M]?” Rush asked, timidly concerned. Vine and Rush were promptly close to my body.
I felt my voice begin to waver, my eyes begin to water, as I shakily murmured, “I’m so scared. I don’t wanna go to the friend zone. I’m so scared of it. I don’t wanna go there. Please, please don’t let me go there.” I recanted those words, somehow managing keeping myself from breaking any further.
I didn’t quite feel Vine’s arm wrap about me, nor Rush’s arm wrap over my shoulders, as they tried the best they could to reassure me. It was more of a Star Trek-ish command bridge in my skull, crew hard at work, when one member alerted, “Captain, there appears to be disturbances along the lower torso and shoulders.”
We managed to talk our way out of the subject, and the night carried on, punctuated by periodic mentions of M, though, like quicksilver, darted away when gripped.
When I returned home, approaching 11 PM, I raced upstairs, opened my laptop, and made a dash to Facebook. Predictably, given the extensive time she had, M had typed back to me.
And… and… she complimented my thoughtfulness, but… but… turned me down, because she had “made plans with a friend already”. It had taken her over two hours to type two sentences telling me that. Suspicious? You bet.
My reaction wasn’t quite similar to the one from her last initiative message; I was sort of disturbed, but I quickly replied, asking her if she’d be willing to give me a time and day to try homecoming again. M read it within the minute. As for replying… I’m still waiting, and it’s been three hours since between M reading my message and typing these exact words.
If my designated mood on my profile says nothing, I’m… well, crushed. She’s avoiding me. This isn’t some friend zone, M’s ignoring me, finding some passive way to slip around me. The migraine wasn’t exactly intentional, but hell, it sure got her past me. My hopes are dying, if they aren’t already dead. Maybe it’s time to give up. I’ve tried.
I’m expecting to see Rush in the morning at the previously mentioned Starbucks, and Art by that park near the stadium in the afternoon. (The two haven’t exactly been hand-in-hand lately. Plight’s everywhere, from what I can see.) They can give me strength, I hope. I’m ready to throw in the towel. I’m getting nowhere. Fuck to it all.
More than anything, I’m terrified. I have no clue where I’m supposed to go when this all falls in flames. What’s worse, I’m still going to have to be around her when she’s out of recovery. The pain could KILL. So scared… I need some guidance. I need more encouraging words to get high off of, like I’ve been doing for the past few weeks; I don’t want to face withdrawal.

10/7/13
Still no reply. It must be safe to pull the plug by now.

This writing, having taken my only a small number of days to write, just came to me. I’m an online creative writer, so this has been the most effective way for me to convey my thoughts and feelings. I enjoy exercising my capabilities, both explanatory and narrative.
That’s all I have. If you’ve something to say about any of this, by all means. If you’ve got an experience you wanna share, le’z hear it.