My Last

My last needs to be said because I feel like I'm sitting on a throne of lies and general hypocrisy at this point when it comes to my past (leaving out the sordid mental health drama and leaning on the reality of things before all that happened).

Jim was my friend on the internet. We chatted every day after school on msn messenger. We traded essays to edit. He writes too. We had a mutual intellectual regard for one another and I think it was mutually puppy love fondness too, at least until my mom insisted I leave my pizza and Degrassi to open the door for my sister's best friend's older brother, Ben. "He's cite, you should go after him," shed said. Truth be told, I'd seen him every day in my history class and I hadn't said a word to him til that night when he shook my hand, looking a thousand times cuter all of a sudden in the doorway.

Jim apparently drove to Cypress and found himself a girlfriend named Kristin, who was as pretty as Ben. I couldn't be too angry. We were still friends. I still felt guilty I couldn't muster up the courage to meet him and the entire Livingston band at that football game the year prior. We'd already been talking for a few years...8th grade was when Kristin stole his tubesock wristband (and this is so gay I'm sorry) but one Ashley Fleetwood stole it back but Kristin didn't want me to be sad so she (come to find out a decade later) cut one of her brother's dirty old socks and gave it to me as a replacement.

I wore that to school in 8th grade. Like every other day. I finally threw it out an upstairs window in my parent's old house when I was 20 or so. It had always given me the creeps bit I treasured it thinking it was Jim's.

I was so thick and oblivious to the social fuckery that is not only grade school unfortunately, wrapped up in my academics and Harry Potter books and general introversion turned vapid extroversion when I was with my gal pals from choir, that I had no clue I was really doing anything wrong or that wrong had been done to me, for that matter.

As far as I was concerned, I was a normal high school kid. Then we went to college. And Ben got a new girlfriend. And I started smoking cigarettes to supplement my summer pot habit. Then I decided that we NEEDED to meet. I implored him to meet me in Rockdale. Rockdale is halfway between our universities. There's a Dairy Queen. C'mon...

So finally he agreed to let me visit him at his school and I got a speeding ticket on the way with 2 fresh grams in my wallet, which I left in the car so he wouldn't smell it. I figured he'd think less of me. I didn't think enough about how much is already misled him about myself, concerning my real actions (not just my winning personality and smarts)...he would know that I was basically a confused delinquent.

"GET OFF THE WEED AND GO FIND JESUS."

Well, my Aunt Wendy told me you'd married a "nice Jewish girl," Jim. You're Jewish? Really? Did you convert to Islam or just learn Arabic? How long do I have to stalk my self-proclaimed "love you like a sister" roommate banging then not saying asshole I STILL have no idea why I care about til he finally introduces himself to ME?

Honestly...I can't trust shit my aunt says half the time or my mom for that matter because they get really confused on they somas...ok? I'm not trying to be THAT exceedingly difficult. But what is so difficult about tellimg someone that you just don't want to know them directly?

Hurt my feelings. Make me angry. Then I can move on without wondering if it's all some huge scam, knowing it was all along anyway, hoping to God we can all laugh about it one day...because there's more. There's so much more I'm not comfortable saying on my gd blog. I should've introduced myself to your parents wgen I saw them at the Driskill.

I would've followed your mom in that Benz on my way to Aunt Paula's house back when I was still Joe Walshing but I thought I'd get arrested. It happened at Trinity River anyway. SAY UNCLE!