“We’re going to the bathroom. We’ll be back in a little while,” I lie with a quick smile, my lying skills are so handy. Keith nods, in agreement, turning to his friend, apparently not aware of our ulterior plans. Samantha and I make our way out of the room and are soon upstairs where the music is muted. Samantha knows how to find Andy’s room, and I find myself blushing, thinking of the hazy memory of the last time I was up here with Jared. Sexy memories surface, his body, his eyes, his hands and my cheeks get hot as I remember the embarrassment I still feel because I ran out of the room like a little girl. Ugg, loser.
Now we’re inside with the door closed, smoke billowing around us as each person takes a toke on the gravity bong, old faithful. I’ve never used a gravity bong before so this is a new experience for me. Just as I take a hit, Andy helping me push the bottle down into the murky water, the door bursts open and Jared stalks in. His eyes, as they alight on mine for a split second are cold, indifferent, expressionless. Holy shit, I think, scared out of my mind for a moment by the noise he’s making, imagining cops or someone who’s going to yell at me. Startled, I let the smoke rush out of my lungs too soon.
Jared looks away and throws himself on the couch behind us. I can feel his presence like an irritant, sand in the eye, and I’m annoyed that he scared me like that. I step away from the bong, feeling the high slip over me silently and join Hannah who’s sitting on the edge of Andy’s bed. I sit stiffly, looking straight ahead, trying not to look over at Jared. It’s awkward. He still hasn’t said a thing to me and I don’t think I can be the one to say something to him first. And not only that, this is the scene of our last…sexual encounter. Gulp.
Finally he looks over at me, his expression weary, raising a hand in a small wave of greeting. I smile tightly and wave back. Why doesn’t the fucker say something?? Now Hannah and Andy get up and are ready to go back downstairs. Samantha seems ready to go too, looking at me and then quickly over at Jared and then back to me again, her eyes compassionate at how awkward I feel. Jared just sits there, his head braced on his arm on the arm of the chair staring straight ahead.
“Come on, Vicky, let’s get back downstairs to those two wicked hot guys,” says Samantha with a grin at me and then she pointedly looks at Jared, as if taunting him with the information. Apparently they have the kind of relationship where she can give him shit. Jared looks up at her briefly, glaring for a second before looking indifferent again. She grasps my hand and pulls me up from the bed and I follow her toward the door. Just as I walk by, Jared sits up and snags my arm, his fingertips hot on my cool flesh.
“I just wanted to say hi and that it’s nice to see you out and about,” he says looking up at me, his face serious. He’s looking so insanely gorgeous, his hair tousled, eyes a golden green brown, that my heart beats faster. I gulp and give him my best smile, not sure how to react. Why is he suddenly talking to me now?
“Hi, Jared, it’s been a while,” I say tightly, trying to get in a little dig about the fact that he never called, about to turn away again, feeling awkward talking to him. His hand is warm on my bare arm and he hasn’t let go yet. I feel myself begin to shiver, a tiny thrill of excitement coursing through me.
“Yeah I guess it has been a while, but I wouldn’t say that you’ve been lonely,” he replies, his eyes appearing to spark just a bit with his comment, but then he smiles and I’m not sure. Taken aback, I wonder what he means by this. Is he talking about Keith, or is he referring to Nick as well? I’m shocked that he took my jab and pointed it back at me. What does he expect? Does he want me to wait on his pleasure or something? I feel myself growing angry, tense with disbelief. Damn him.
“Oh him, that’s nothing, I just met him tonight,” I say with a flippant smile, not sure what to say, not sure I have control over what comes out of my mouth.
“Yeah, I guess that’s your style,” he says, his eyes cold, impersonal with a hint of mocking. He leans back casually, his hand dropping away from my arm. He smiles again and it somehow seems less than genuine. “But that’s cool, you’re a freshman, you want to have a good time, I get that.” I’m stunned for a second and then speak quickly without thinking.
“Yeah, well I guess your style is passive aggressive sarcasm,” I bite out with a hard little smile that I hope makes it seem like a sort-of joke, but inside I’m quivering because I want him and things are going terribly wrong. I can’t believe that this is happening. Is he angry with me? I need honesty, I crave a way to tell him how I really feel, but I can’t.
He laughs, nodding toward the door. “You’d better hurry up, wouldn’t wanna let sloppy, drunk, lover-boy wait, even if he is one of many.”
I feel anger rise in my throat like a bubble, blocking my airways. How dare he judge me! Is he judging me because of what had happened with Nick? Does he know about that? What the fuck! How can this be happening? This is not what I want at all. I gulp, still angry but holding back tears that have sprung to my eyes at how harsh he’s being. Finally I lash out, unable to stop the words from spewing out of my mouth.
“Fuck off, you can’t judge me. Clearly you aren’t interested, so why do you care?”
His eyebrows rise and his mouth quirks for a moment and he blinks, and then his false smile is back again, oh so fake and friendly. I don’t wait for his reply but stalk out of the room, feeling like a child whose parents have said I can’t have a shiny new toy. Bastard! I don’t want to feel this way! I can’t believe I just said that to him! Fuck!! Does this mean that I will never have a chance with him again? This encounter just ruined my night, ruined my high.
##########################
I had a dream you loved me last night. You said it right to my face and I didn’t believe you at first, but then I did. I knew it in my heart that you did and I felt complete. But what a horrible nightmare to wake up from that dream and realize that feeling wasn’t real, was lost, wasn’t even true. You don’t love me. I don’t even know if you like me. My happiness was swept away with that one breath that brought me back to the real world. My world with no love.
The weather today sucks. My shoes are soaked ‘cause I stepped in a freezing cold puddle so deep my toes were under water. Rain sleet and snow will ruin my day. My pant legs soaked and clinging to my legs. Dropless of cold hard rain. Slippery wet and cold. I feel alone walking in the driving wet rain. Alone. The word echoes in my mind. Like rain drops pounding on cement, on my body, hard and cold and uncaring. I’m freezing, wet and alone in the dark of night. It pounds, splashes, wet rain, hard, slamming, moving through space to ruin my day, to soak me until I want to scream and throw myself into a puddle and drown. Muddy, dirty water, dirty, muddy minds. Thrown together in slush, drowning in cloudy water, sickened by drops of hard rain.
March 11, 2005
This is a mental breakdown
My phone rings. The number is my Doctor’s office. My heart skips a beat and then starts thudding. The results I’ve been waiting for. I know they’ll lead to happy elation or downright despair. I can’t handle the despair. I’ll want to kill myself, no joking. The thought has been evolving in my mind lately and all I need is something else to ruin my life, another problem on the pile, another worry, another stressor. It may be better to die than to live like this because my mind is a fuckin punishment.
With trembling hands I answer the call.
“Hello?”
“Victoria Sawyer?”
“Yes.”
“This is Dr. Perkins. I’ve received your test results from the pap smear. I’m happy to tell you that you pap results came back completely normal, however, unfortunately, your STD test revealed that you have Chlamydia.” The doctor pauses and I almost drop the phone. Holy shit!! My stomach clenches with dread and my palms are instantly sweaty, the phone slippery in my grip. Everything feels surreal and suddenly the world is not solid, but spinning. Must sit down, I think, collapsing onto the couch at my parents’ house. Luckily no one is home at the moment to witness my distress.
�
��What do I need to do? Can this be treated?” I ask my voice tight, mind racing. I can’t seem to remember all the details about Chlamydia from my high school health class.
“Yes, it can be treated, but you will need to come down and get a prescription for an antibiotic. Your sexual partner will also need to have a prescription and be treated at the same time as you. This is very important to prevent re-infection,” she goes on, her voice very scientific and clinical. “If you come down to our office today I will have two prescriptions waiting for you.”
My stomach is turning somersaults and heat pours over me. I’m on fire. No, no, no, no, no, I scream in my mind. This can’t be happening to me!!
As I hang up the phone, I suddenly feel dirty, my skin crawling and creeping with disgust. How could this have happened to me? I’ve only had sex with one person in my entire life and this is what I get from it? I can’t fuckin believe it. It’s unreal. I can’t handle this. This is it, the end for me. I drag myself upstairs to my bedroom and lie down on the bed, hugging my knees. Tears course over my face and my body feels unclean, as though there is some parasite living inside me, some nasty disease feeding on my body. I am disgusting.
Tears stream over my face as I stare at the ceiling at my artwork, a charcoal drawing, a candle with flame and I imagine myself as an exploding bomb and I’m trying to hold the pieces together from flying into oblivion and it is hard, very difficult to not to lose it, to try to stay sane, to stop the physical feelings that are always present in my body.
I am a failure at life. School is overwhelming, my health is overwhelming. I’m terrified of pregnancy, STD’s and my mental health. I have no love. I have nothing. I want to lie down. Never get up. I want to end it. Tears are disfiguring this page as I try to write. The ink smears. My hand hurts from writing for so long. And now I’m sick with a cold. My throat hurts so much that I want to rip it out and my eyes are little slits that burn. I think I’m going to die. I think I want to. My life sucks.
I am lost. College sucks. It’s incredibly tedious and boring and yet I can’t succeed. I want to shoot myself in the head to stop the pain. Simple things don’t even go right for me. I go get new glasses and yup, they mess it up. I bring my car to get fixed, oh yeah, they messed that up too. All I want is for something to go right the very first time.
I got my oil changed and oh by the way, you had no oil in there. Doctors are telling me that things are wrong with me, disgusting, embarrassing, dirty things. I want to cry, I want to scream. I cannot win. I don’t want to live inside my own disgusting body.
I can’t believe I didn’t go to class today. I’m going to flunk out of college. I hate myself. My whole face burns, my nose is plugged up and I can’t breathe. I’m a miserable piece of shit. I can’t stop panicking either, did I mention that beautiful tidbit of information? It’s constant now. Never ending, every single day, every single second, no matter where I go or what I do. I’m falling over the edge of sanity, right now. Watch me go.
I DON’T WANT TO LIVE ANYMORE
I cannot deal with anything
I am a failure
I cannot do anything
I am hideous
I have an awful personality
No one wants to be with me
I am a psycho
I may hurt myself
All life ever does is kick me when I’m down
It shits on me constantly
I can’t handle it anymore
I want to die
I’m done, I give up
I will scream
Everything always goes wrong.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Can something actually go right in my fucked life?
I can’t deal with my own psycho mind.
I can’t stop the thinking and obsessing.
It’s astounding I’ve lasted this long.
Everything stresses me out.
I’m keyed up constantly.
No rest for the weary and insane.
THIS IS A MENTAL BREAKDOWN.
So I was supposed to get my period sometime soon. Nothing, nada, no red. OMG. If I am pregnant it will ruin my life. My parents will hate me. I’m pregnant, I know it. I know it!! FUCK!!
Seriously, how can anyone handle not knowing, waiting, fearing. I don’t understand how girls younger than me can have sex. Girls who are 14, 15, 16 and somehow they can handle it. They must be completely unaware or don’t care about anything because I can’t even handle it now at 18 almost 19, not without totally losing my mind. I’m glad I didn’t have sex at a younger age. I wouldn’t have been ready. I would have been overwhelmed and worrying constantly. At least right now I’m not in high school. I’m an adult, by the world’s standards and could take care of this if I absolutely had to.
#######################
Yesterday in class I felt so dirty. I was sitting there wondering what everyone would think if they knew I had an STD and was on medication for it. They would laugh, cringe, be completely disgusted. I felt like it was plastered across my head, a big red letter letting everyone know that I was a walking talking plaque ridden body. I feel gross just sitting here inside my own body, knowing that there is something wrong down there, knowing that I am harboring some nasty disease that people will want to avoid at all costs. And yes, I did start to notice the symptoms. On a happier note, I’m not pregnant. Thank God. Finally my period came. I have never been happier to see that red or feel those cramps in my entire life. At least one worry has been removed from my plate, for the time being. Now I just have to make sure I take my pill on time every day. God, life is a pain in the ass sometimes. And the best thing is yet to come, I have to give him his prescription…fuck no.
February 13, 2005
Angry-sexy-fuck-me grin
I’m shoving my way through the packed crowd of sluts, hoes and d-bags, trying to get to the keg. I can feel my cheeks burning and my hands are trembling ‘cause the very loud music is making me jumpy. I need more alcohol, stat. The sips I had in Kayla’s dorm room before we left wasn’t nearly enough and I feel this close to leaving if I don’t get some soon. Hannah is following along behind me, pushing past people dancing, smiling at someone she knows, promising to talk to them later, generally dilly dallying, wasting time. But I’m on a fucking mission, eyes zeroed in on the prize, the shining silver keg of Pabst at the far end of the room. Disgusting, yet it wouldn’t matter to me if it tasted like absolute shit, I’d still want it.
Once I finally get there, I breathe a sigh of relief and start pumping myself a very large beer. I almost laugh out loud as I imagine how I must have appeared, pushing through the crowd, eyes glittering with need, the addict on her way to getting a fix. It’s funny because everyone thinks I’m a party girl, the good time girl, but the truth is I need alcohol to even act like a normal human being here. I need it to calm me, to convince me not to run away as fast as my legs can carry me. And the freedom it represents, the freedom to be someone else, to live for a while without panic, is like heaven on earth. I’ll do just about anything to feel that way, so when Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and even sometimes Sunday roll around, I’m so happy I could cry.
I’ve guzzled about half of my drink so far, I can’t seem to stop tipping it up. My drinking is getting worse, each time I need more to keep calm. Every night there comes a point when I feel crystal clear, sober, even after three or four beers and then I know I need more. I need to drown out the panic, banish it. I don’t care what it takes. I don’t care that I have to nurse my horrific hangover the entire next day, because by the time night rolls around, I’m ready to do it again. I’m ready to escape.
We’ve been pushed away from the keg by newcomers who seem to have a need for beer like mine and now we’re crammed into a tiny space just big enough for us to stand, red Solo cups almost touching brims, steadying them as people jostle around us. I’m hoping it’s not obvious to anyone that I’ve been really going to town on my drink and it’s almost gone. But the good thing is I’
m starting to feel better. I’m starting to feel the freedom. Hannah and Kayla are laughing now at something and I join in, not really sure what’s so funny. Soon we’ll start dancing. That’s how it always goes. Get a drink, chug it, get another, chug it, start to dance but hold back and then finally after another drink or two, really let go, free and loose.
Let’s get this fucking show on the road. The girls are busy gossiping and the keg is suddenly free, so I steal away for a minute and quickly pump myself another drink. No one seems to notice and I’m back in my spot in no time, the cold beer flowing smoothly down my throat. I feel good. I feel so good. It’s like a high to avoid the panic. Like a release that I’ve been waiting for all week, an orgasm of panic free thoughts and feelings. Fuck yes.
We’re sort of fidgeting now, almost dancing when the music halts for a moment and a cry goes up through the crowd and then a new song blares over the speakers and it’s one of my favorites and I want to celebrate. I’m dancing now, getting in to it, holding the fingertips of Hannah’s free hand as we grind, tipping my cup to my greedy lips with the other, smiling, laughing at something she has said. I’m trying not to think about him. Sometimes panic trumps even those thoughts and I’ve forgotten to think about how much I hate him, how much I love him, how much I want him despite the fact that he basically told me off and made fun of my “sloppy drunk lover-boy.”
He’s got to be here somewhere, in the crowd, with his brother, with his fratboy friends, drinking, checking out sluts, eyes roaming the crowd. I wish it was me he was checking out.
Some commotion has just occurred that I missed because I was scanning the crowd and Kayla, Celeste, and their friend Amy suddenly up and leave Hannah and me, promising to be right back. So we dance together now, smiling at each other, making snide comments about the skanks nearby and of course keeping our eyes peeled for the Brothers McKinley. We get new drinks and are quickly back to dancing.
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