These asphixiated, self medicated, take the white pill, you'll feel alright

Much apologies for my long and uneventful absence. The sharp claws of spring break had pulled me brutally into its grasp and it was a hard fight to escape the state of mind that it put me in.

I must warn you of the content of this entry. I am not in a humorous or satirical mood, but one of pondering. Comments will not be returned today, and the epic of my spring break will have to be told another time. If you have come to view my style of writing as always witty and entertaining, come back later, for today is a solemn day.

The topics I discuss will most likely bore you, but as I have nowhere else to write freely, this will have to do.

I have been thinking constantly of Andrew, and failing to understand the strange and freakish pull I have towards him. I do not feel this way about people. I like to think that I am above such trivial feelings. To me, most people are stupid, vain creatures that I have no desire to consort with.

He is different. I have felt it since the moment I walked into fourth period AP World History and saw him sitting calmly in his desk, unaware of the effect he had on me.

The more I get to know him, the more perfect he is to me. The fact that he knows and loves the movies that are so important to me; the way his eyebrows raise right before he says something devastatingly funny or uncannily brilliant; the way his blue eyes laugh whenever he sees me, as if we are in together on some brilliant joke that no one else knows.

Even now, writing these things, they feel less special now that they are out in the open and other people know. Words diminish these things that are dear to me, but I had to get them out of me.

He came over to my house to watch movies with me, and I felt for the first time that I wanted to be closer to somebody. I have never wanted to "connect" with anyone before, and I recoil at being touched by anyone other than my parents. But I desperately want him to understand me, and I want to understand him. It almost pains me to be near him, knowing that he is there and I can't have him.

I wonder what he sees in me. What could a long haired Catholic school boy see in a redheaded atheist girl whose best friends are her cactus Arnold and her body pillow Herbert? What could this boy ever find worth saving in a girl who prefers movie characters to real people, who loves to dodge traffic to find an elusive hubcap, and whose mood swings come fast and unexpected?

Maybe I'm his escape. Maybe the only reason he cares for me is because I'm not of his world, a world of rules and conformity that plague almost everyone born into a society like this. I like to think that I'm his breath of fresh air.

But one day, I fear that the breath will turn sour, and he will not want anything to do with me. Perhaps one day, my antics that once amused and astounded him will bore him and he will leave, saying hollow, meaningless things like "I'm sorry", "This isn't the right time for me", or "We just wouldn't work well together". I am afraid of this day, and until then, I hope that he sees at least a sliver in me of what I see in him.