It’s a silent murderIt’s a grave that sings your songIt’s a quiet failureIt’s the one that makes you strong
I ran out of ‘easy’ Dead Men Tell No Tale episodes. In order to move forward with the saga, I’d need to sift through the 60 megs or so of chat logs I have stored on my computer. There’s a lot of good stuff on there, but the problem is, there’s just too much of it. What do I throw up here as interesting material? What do I let stagnate on my harddrive forever?
Been putting this off for a little while; like I said before, I don’t much like to write these days. In any case, and without further ado:
(Revised from something written by hand on 11/28/06 at 12:16 AM)
Once upon a time, I met this girl.
Her name was Roxanne.
She is like every girl I’ve ever met. Like every girl, I gave her the benefit of the doubt and should not have. I met her at my part time job at Desert Star – she was a server (probably 17) and I worked in the box office. For a month, there was no real way to talk to her but for a few minutes. She seemed very shy – unable to keep eye contact with me, pleasant but seemingly nervous in conversation. She was attractive in a bland way – blonde, blue eyes, good figure… I thought maybe she was shy because she was interested in me. She came to my full time job twice – seemingly just to say hi. I went to a show at Desert Star with my boss and co-worker from Precision Time, and she was our server – and seemingly excited to be.
In front of my cohorts, I scrawled her a simple note in poor handwriting – “CALL ME SOMETIME. ###-###-####”
She never did. At work, I finally get her to, at the very least, text me. We blather pointlessly, when suddenly one of her friends texts: “There’s something you need to know about Roxanne.” I of course inquire futilely about what that something might be – an hour or so later, I get my answer. There is a picture of Roxanne and one of her server friends mock kissing. Seizing the opportunity to slyly make my move, I text Roxanne: “So, you like girls?”
She aptly responds: “Haha”
I perform the coup de grace – “So I guess that means you wouldn’t be interested in going to a movie or something…” And yes, I really do text with proper grammar.
She shuts me down: “Oh, I’m not really into girls. But I’m interested in another guy right now.”
Well, that’s fine. We can just be friends, right? She seemed to want to be, anyway – as she was the one who made sure that we “could still be friends.” I didn’t think “still” belonged, but whatever. I’m not gonna split hairs – I’m pretty damn lonely. Then I make my classic mistake.
I share a little bit of myself with her.
She seems responsive, but our conversation is limited (and frankly hard to have over text messages). She was supposed to call, at this point, but is instead texting me. She says she’ll call the next day, but I can’t help but think I blew it: she hadn’t said goodbye or good night and I’d sent the last text. Next day, I text “you still in school?” at 4 PM. No response. She is supposed to call at 10 PM.
It’s 12:30 AM. She has not called. (Edit: When I originally wrote this, it was the day she hadn’t called. She didn’t call the next day, or the next week… More on that later.)
What is wrong with me? Why is it that when I share myself, people move away? Why can’t I be loved? Why can’t I be myself? Why can’t I share my feelings with anyone? (On the side of the page, I scrawled: “Why do I live? To not quit?”)
Only Sara seemed to care. As I write this, I hold back tears: I think she loved me. I know I loved her.
Why do I fuck everything up?
I am so alone. I have three friends, no confidants, no family to speak of. I live by myself. Roxanne is neither the first or the last to shut me out.
Haley left me as soon as I expressed my true feelings. Lydia. Katie. Katie. Sam. Katelyn. Shawna. Emmy. Roxanne. Kendra. Kelsey. Kelsey. Sarah. Lindsey. Shelly.
Who else? Hannah. Kati.
Only Sara stayed – and I treated her like shit.
I have only one regret.
I think I’ve concluded that I just plain hate people.
After things with Roxanne with south, I tried my luck with another server – Rachel. She was fun to banter with, seemed to have a similar sense of humor, and she was very very cute. There was no easy way to get her number or anything like there’d been with Roxanne. Several nights, I’d considered going downstairs and just brazenly asking for it.
Just as I was building up courage, fate intervened. She pulled me aside and showed me that she already had my number in her phone. How or why, I still don’t know – but whatever, I wasn’t going to split hairs over this either. So I asked her why she hadn’t done anything with my number, and she had no good reason. She said she’d text me, and she did.
She wasn’t much for words. She didn’t say much and responded to most everything I’d said with a few words – no more. I tried opening up a little to see if that’d make her more open, too. That didn’t work.
I’d also call her, even late at night, and she’d always answer. Things seemed favorable for being friends at least – she already had a boyfriend, and though he was on a mission, I wasn’t going to try to encroach on that territory. I just wanted a friend, and Rachel seemed like me in so many ways.
She shared some similar philosophies. For example, she doesn’t ever call people – she figures that if someone wants to talk to her, they will call her. That’s the same philosophy I lived my life by not too long ago. She had issues trusting people – like me. She had issues being honest – like me. She’d been hurt, badly, by other people – like me.
I was excited to have someone who could be a friend, finally.
One day, seemingly out of the blue, she texts and asks “Do you love me?” How the FUCK am I supposed to respond to that? It seemed fishy because some unknown person had just texted me the same thing – I’d later figure out that this person was another of the servers (though she never owned up to it).
But I decide to trust Rachel in her assertion that the incident was merely coincidence. I buy time and ask her what she means. I ask her to define love, she says “a tingling feeling.” I ask her if she wants an honest answer – she says yes. So I say “I don’t know what love is.”
Following this, I get a text from Roxanne, asking “Do you love me?” Roxanne and I hadn’t talked in like a month. I should have been tipped off then… but I decide to play along. Obviously something is going on… I respond “Sure, don’t you love me?” She responds “Define love.” Seeing where this is going, I say “I think it’s a tingling feeling.” She says “I think I don’t know what love is, and neither do you.”
I respond very simply, being as I was pretty hurt. This wasn’t something I wanted to be made fun of about. I could just see it then — all the server girls at my job thinking I’m a fucking joke.
This is why I never, fucking ever, trust any god-damn-one but myself.
I respond, “I think this is something that I don’t want to be teased about, and I think I’m going to keep to myself from now on.” I should have stuck to my gut instinct, but instead, I text Rachel about five minutes later. I didn’t want to believe that she’d done that to me, and I was looking for ANY sign to vindicate that belief. I open by saying “Hmm. Thanks.”
She pretends to not know what I’m talking about. I explain the situation. I have to explain everything in depth – how my parents never loved each other. How my parents never loved me. How my brother only loved me when he was drunk. How my sister hated me. How Haley had said those three words so many times, and how none of them mattered or meant anything.
She apologizes, sincerely, or so I thought. I feel happy for a moment, if a bit overwhelmed – and closer to Rachel.
The next day (or very shortly following this incident) Roxanne pulls me outside and tells me that it was all a coincidence and that she’s sorry. Okay, I say. I still don’t trust Roxanne one bit, but this makes me feel at ease a little more with Rachel. Still, something was off – we weren’t bantering at work like usual, she wasn’t saying hi, and I wasn’t feeling up to breaking the ice.
I never know what to do with myself.
One day I’m teasing her about being more open with me, maybe hanging out and seeing a movie. Apparently Roxanne was there, and she texts back announcing her presence – “If you do that, you’ll have to do that when I’m there.”
I ask the obvious question – “Why?”
Because, she says, “I don’t trust you.”
I can’t remember if I ask why again or if I just cut to the chase and say “I don’t trust you either.”
On my cell phone, I’d written a memo to myself – Roxanne is not to be trusted. In my mini journal I kept for a few days down here, on the 29th of November, I’d written “I’ve given up on Roxanne.”
She says that I should stop pressuring people to do things and that I should stop talking to Rachel. I figured that Rachel was just too… non-confrontational to tell me herself to bugger off. I’d told her that she could tell me to bugger off if she wanted to. This was the second time that Roxanne had been a mouth piece for Rachel, and my trust was shattered. I couldn’t believe I’d been stabbed twice – especially not after that apology that felt so genuine and healing.
“Okay,” I respond.
“Is that all you have to say?” Roxanne asks.
“You give up too easy.” Do I? I explain that she’s right and that I shouldn’t pressure people. Eventually she says that she’s “done with this conversation” and it seems like we won’t be talking any time soon.
And here’s the part explaining why I fucking HATE people.
Tonight, at work, Roxanne and Rachel pretty much completely ignore me. I think this is the first time I’ve seen them since this little incident. I’m doing my nightly lock check and Roxanne comes over to ask for a high five – even though it was pretty clear from that one night, and from basically every sign she’d ever given me, that I stood no chance in hell even being her friend. I decline (citing my dirty hands as a reason), not feeling up to entertaining her bipolar disorder tonight. In my head, I’m thinking, I thought this was over?
She gets all butthurt, like she didn’t see this coming. What the fuck?
Just to rub it in her face, I high-five Megan several times.
Go fuck yourself.