Megaphone!

Lovely. Just lovely.

As soon as I think all my old high school drama is over, it's back again.

I hate drama. It makes me have anxiety attacks. And my anxiety attacks aren't the ones all people are used to: the ones where you begin to breath and break under stress, start getting frustrated and angry, maybe throw a few things in severe cases.

No. My anxiety becomes dormant within me. I get quiet. Sad. Looking tired. Giving me aches and pains everywhere, and making me think of the worst possible scenarios. Max kills himself. David gets into a car accident. Casey's mom finally snaps and kills her family after having an incestuous moment with her son. Something of that sort usually comes to mind every few seconds. Something new, every time. Get raped in an alley. Have the baby. Rip internal organs. Never be able to have kids again.

That type of thing, never having a family of my own, would kill me. It scares me now.

The ex. The kid with the ring, a few posts ago, in Cleaning Out the Closet. You know, the guy with no interest in me. Of course, once I date his best friend from high school, he comes up to me and tells me he would like together sometime to hang out. Finding me in the market and talking to me while we shop. He was hitting on me. Liking me. Slowly getting back those feelings for the girl who changed his perspective about people with depression and who wanted to kill themselves for being bullied by scene jerks who had a drug addiction in Georgia, or because her parents got a divorce half-way through the relationship. He liked me for that reason: I wasn't another shallow bitch who had a thing for three tons of makeup. I liked flamethrowers, and video games, and zeppelins. I liked watching games, and playing pool with the family. Though, I was shy, everyone had their problems. And I gave damn good back massages.

Though I didn't mind having a friend again, having a reason to get out of the house, this is bad. He didn't know I was dating David. He didn't know that I had no interest in getting back together with him, even if I wasn't with David. Reasons?

1. He was a complete and utter jerk
2. He didn't appreciate when I had time for him.
3. I had nothing to do when he and I were together.
4. At first, all he wanted me for was for sex.

And, I know, some of those reasons aren't really reasons. I don't know if he has changed or not in the past few years. But, from experience of him, and his "morals," I don't blame him for being the same. He's not a man of change.

So, I had David tell him today. And he texts me, and says what?

"Lier".

Now, excuse me, but I did no such thing. I lead him on, yes. I deceived him, yes. But no lying was done here. And, excuse me again, but just because, it's spelled L-I-A-R.

He's not talking to me. He's angry with me, and he refuses to hate me. Not like I care that he's not talking to me, it's just that he can't make up his mind. He never can. Never could.

On a happier note, I'm helping David with things around his apartment. Cleaning his car, helping him with laundry. We've been watching movies together, and tomorrow we're going to Max's gig with his band. I can't wait to see how it goes. Helping him with his hair and picking out clothes tomorrow. I love that kid so much. He's my baby. My favorite baby.

He's very self conscious though, which makes me worried. So very worried. He's amazing on the guitar and the piano.

With David, we've been getting stuff done. Going places. I met his parents while we were in school. All of our family knows of our relationship. The first thing his mother said when he told her was "The girl who cut herself." Ah, depression during teens. I would much rather not return there. Ever. On the car ride up to where his parents live, though, since he drives fast and all, we got onto the topic of his driving. I learn a lot from watching him drive. He always holds my hands in the car, the crappy, red VW that's a stick shift. Anyway, what he said surprised me.

"I don't like going over 60, 70 when others are in the car. I don't want to get into an accident and survive while somebody else dies. It's okay if I die."

When you think about it, it makes sense. Not wanting to kill anyone else in an accident. But I never took him to be the guy who cared. Who really thought about that type of stuff. I never thought about that kind of thing, never in my life. It hit me really hard. I just kind of grabbed his hand a bit harder, and he looked at me and read my mind, like usual. "Never thought I'd be thinking about that, huh?" I said something across the lines of "No, not really," but I really wanted to call him an ass for knowing what I was thinking.

After the whole being re-introduced again, we headed out to go back home... And we were holding hands again. I was feeling the structure of his hand, when I just stopped, and he looked at me. I just started to feel bad, and thought of all these bad things that would happen. If he was dead. If he was gone.

"I don't want you to die."

"I know you don't."

Question for the Audience: Is it too soon to be thinking like that? Is it too soon to be thinking sexually of him? Is it too soon to be thinking I love him?

It's late, and I have to take a shower.

Ryan