I guy I graduated with recently died. He was headed back to school last week. He hit black ice and then he hit a semi. It sucks. It always sucks, and unfortunately this isn't the first time I've dealt with something like this. After 8th grade a boy a year younger than me but who I sort of knew from band and lunch was hit by a car and died. Sophomore year a freshman flute player who I knew slightly from marching band crashed her car and died. Last year a girl I used to play soccer with rolled her car into a creak and died. There have been a few others, but I had no contact with them. I didn't know them. And, really, I barely knew the ones I've mentioned, but that doesn't matter. I knew them enough. We were a part of the same band, or the same soccer team and it sucks. Plain and simple, it sucks. But this time is different if ever so slightly. He was an extremely awkward kid. I didn't talk to him much and when I usually did it was because I was frustrated with him. He didn't have very good social skills and was, frankly, a bit difficult to get along with. He played trumpet, maybe not well, but I have to admit that he was passionate about it. He tried hard at being as good as he could be. He ran for band officer one year despite having a very slim chance of winning. I feel awful that he's gone. Nobody, no matter how socially awkward or annoying, deserves to die at 19. The part that makes it worse than the others though is the fact that one of my closest and best friends drove by the accident only 2 hours after it happened (she said his jeep was barely recognizable as a jeep). I was already worried about her trip across the state because the girl she was driving with seemed afraid just to be behind the wheel. Luckily she texted me telling me she arrived safely back to school a couple hours before I learned about the death. When I realized how easily that could have been her friend's car lying crumpled past the point of recognition on the side of the road, I just about lost it. I don't believe in God, but maybe there's someone out there, making sure she was ok that day. And maybe it was all just random. He just happened to get at that specific spot at the worst time possible. It happens. If not him, someone else. If not there, somewhere else. It doesn't really matter I guess. I feel bad for saying it, but I'm so relieved it was my friend. I'm relieved she was two hours behind him. And, I hope for his sake that he didn't suffer. I hope it was quick. His funeral's Tuesday. I can't decide if I'm going or not. I don't like funerals (who really does). At 19 I've been to far too many. I'm sorry, Alex. Sorry that people gave you a hard time in high school. Sorry you were at the wrong place at the wrong time. And I'm sorry, so sorry, for being thankful that it was my Katie. I honestly hope there's somewhere better for you. That you're there now.
The thing is, as a friend of mine kindly pointed out a few weeks ago, I don't talk about my emotions. I don't share them. I do my best to avoid the subject, to hide my intense feelings. That's partly the reason for this blog. Nobody should have to keep these things bottled up. It'll drive you mad. But I can't find a way to talk about it. I'm afraid I guess. Afraid that people will get fed up with being overemotional (I'm the only person who knows just how incredibly emotional I get). Afraid they'll think I'm weak because of the tears. Afraid that they'll take advantage of it somehow. Just afraid I guess. I know I get annoyed when people display their every emotion freely. When they share everything, even if you've only known them an hour. It makes me feel like they just want attention. I'm sure in many cases it isn't true, but maybe I've just had too many bad experiences with it. Maybe I'm just a really horrible person on the inside after all. Maybe I am a cynic.
I'ved been called heartless, cold hearted, soulless, etc... more times than I care to count. Lots of time it's just in jest. I know they don't mean it really. I have friend who thinks it's pretty funny. She tells me a lot that I have a cold heart because I've turned down just about every guy that's ever asked me out, pretty much crushing them. But the truth is I'm the opposite. I think I feel everything too strongly. I'm ridiculously empathetic. I can't watch surgeries on TV shows because it makes me hurt. I once started watching P.S. I Love You about halfway through and no more than 30 minutes into it silent tears started streaming down my face. I get emotionally attached to fictional characters. After reading My Sisters Keeper I sobbed as my own family member had died. So, because I feel my emotions are slightly out of control, I've learned how to hide them; how to suppress them until they're under control or I can be alone to let the full weight of them have their effect. I rarely show anger. That's a really bad one to let out. I show happy, but I keep it under control. I'm not one to scream or cry of happiness in public. But, mostly, it's the sad that I keep locked up. Nobody wants sad. Nobody wants to deal with someone crying. Guys don't even know how to deal with tears. So, I've learned hold that inside till I can find a remote place, and even then they're silent tears. I choke back the sobs. If people hear, they wonder what's going on and ask questions or just think there's something wrong with you; you're depressed and you need help. Maybe that's not really the way it is, but that's the way it feels. Probably because when I was younger I cried for probably a week straight one time. Partially because I just finished elementary school and I was facing a new school with completely different people in the fall. I was sad and terrified and I cried, a lot. I didn't want to admit to my mom why I was crying. I had reached the age where I thought adults didn't understand anything. She said if I didn't stop crying or if I didn't tell her why I was crying she would take me to a therapist. Those were the magic words. At 11 a therapist was only someone truly crazy and depressed people went to. I was neither crazy nor depressed. Just scared and afraid of losing my friends and not finding any others. I think I finally mumbled a "I miss my friends" and she let it go. But from that day on i was more careful about crying. Keep it quiet or mom will threaten therapy. Some part of me still believes that I guess. Even if I have a reason for crying (and sometimes I just don't, I'm sad for no reason) I'm afraid that someone will take it as a sign that I'm super depressed and I need therapy. And, somewhere in me, I still feel like therapy is only for truly crazy people or people that are seriously depressed (like try to kill yourself depressed). I should know better. I mean, once I hit puberty and hormones started going haywire my mom told me that sometimes all you need is a good a cry. She told me about a friend she knew who would take her kids to their grandparents' once a month and go home and play sad music and just sit and cry and cry and cry for no reason, just because. But I must have somewhat the mentality of a boy. If I cry for no reason I'm weak. I shouldn't get upset so easily.
About those turned down boys, I did it for them, for our friendships. I had no feelings for any of them. They were all really good friends. I didn't want to kid myself that they would be anything other than just friends. It killed me having to turn them down. I knew it hurt them like hell. But, somewhere down the line, had I gone out with them, I'm convinced things would have turned ugly. I didn't really like them. We would have fought. We would have ended up breaking up. Our friendship would have been ruined. And, I valued those friendships more than to let that happen. I'm happy, though, to say that in a couple cases I was right. We're friends, really good friends. I miss them when they go away, but like I'd miss a friend. Maybe guys and girls can't be friends without one of the other starting to fall for the other, but I believe it can be worked out. In the end friendship can overrule it all. I love those boys like I would a brother.
