I can't tell him to knock it off.
It's so horrible, what he's doing to himself, this isolation from the present; this refusal to believe the truth; this entrapment in a wish of what could have been (but will never, ever be).
And, what's worse is, it's because of me.
I stood it for three days over the holiday, heard his whining protests, saw the half-veiled hints, tried only perfunctuorily to ward off his advances, watched as my friend was transformed from his usual zany self to the most cynical of love-distraught guys.
Because of me. I guess.
I have a strong character. I've steeled myself before and been able to walk the hardest path to tell people what I honestly needed to tell them. Once or twice, I've even found the words to say to boys that--the great teenage euphemism for one of the most inexpressible feelings imaginable--I liked them. Isn't that supposed to be the hardest thing in the world to verbalize?
It's not.
Maybe Dagny left Eddie Willers looking out across that black expanse of train track because she was too much of a wimp to tell him.
I wonder how they spent Thanksgivings at the Taggart household.
Anonymous
07:54:46 PM
3 comments:
anonymity leaves so many questions spinning around in the brain...
It is harder to let a guy down than pick him up. But think of it the objectivist way: if he couldn't pick up on your unspoken refusal, he deserves your spoken one. It'll be better for him in the long run, anyway.
No way, I say let him have it cold and flat.
I'm not interested. Quit telling me you are, it's futile. Let's be friends, and I mean it, but that's gonna be hard if you can't move past this.
I'm basically hating this anonymity. I wonder if they even go to my school.
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