(Private locked) I'm never going to stop feeling guilty, am I?
I saw Victor and Doyle today, and we talked tunnels. And Doyle's still changed. Still turned off, still doesn't care about anything, it's so painfully obvious. I tried to talk to him, not a lot, just tried to leave a door open, and I think it's still slammed shut on his end and I can't even blame him. I wouldn't trust me, either, if I were him.
I keep trying. I have to keep trying, there's part of me that still wants to fix this, and it's so dumb. I can't fix what I broke. And I know intellectually that his reaction is his choice, that I loved him enough that I still love him. This wouldn't hurt me so much if I didn't still love him, didn't want to still be friends with him, and that's not going to happen, either. Which makes me wonder if I'll get over this, ever get over feeling guilty about him, ever get over missing being the Jenny Monkey.
I can tell myself or Dash that I know it's his choice all I want. I can know that a person makes their own choices about how they're going to be, about whether they'll grow from an experience and learn from it, or shrink. But I was raised to believe that I am my brother's keeper, and I can't duck the responsibility for my own actions, at least not while I'm being honest with myself. And yet, to think that Doyle can't own his own reactions and that they're my fault is it's own form of vanity and pride. I'm responsible for me and my actions, and I did the best I could with him. It wasn't enough, it'll never be enough, I'll never be able to change that. I have to live with it. But I want to know where Doyle went, where that kind, funny, sweet human being who cared about people went. I miss that person. I hate to think I killed him, but I think I did.
Will's missing. Woody's missing. Jacq's missing, she stopped showing up to work, before they found the rotting food in her room. Julia and Andrea are missing. And I haven't had the nerve to go finding that corner of Randall that I know exists because of Kimberly Sweet's journal, the one that may hold Chrissie Marlowe and Julia Verne. I still wonder if I started this, if it was me messing with the Ouija board that woke all this up, and I'm scared. Ari's off her head, every time I get near her during class hours, she gives me a look, and I end up not talking to her because I think it might break her. Ailey lost it, the other day, I got the feeling that she hasn't let herself cry at all, and then there she was, hysterical and scared, and all I can do is try my best to offer distraction while we gear up to invade the tunnels and go hunting for missing people, and pray that we find them alive instead of dead. Dash thinks Woody's dead. I don't know, I don't want to think it. Was it ghosts? Was it Washington Irving, who can't seem to incarnate? He plagued Kim Sweet, he plagued me, I don't know how to deal with any of this, and worse, Frankie doesn't believe in any of this. Jules does. She's staying with someone else, and Ian and I both worry so much about Frankie, but you can't force someone to move. And yet, someone from on-campus posted a video to Will's website. And as far as I know, only Will could have done that. Where are you, Will? Where are you, Woody?
I don't talk about any of this to people. Not Doyle, not my lingering guilt over him or the Ouija board, not my fears for Frankie. I have to be strong, I have to fix this, I have to. Besides, Ian would tell me I was enjoying a roll in self-pity and get over it. I can't say he'd be wrong, but that's where you get into the question of where does your responsibility end and someone else's begin? Besides, except for the guilt and fear? I've never been this happy in my life. I'm mostly pretty balanced, and Ian is...Ian. What more needs to be said about him? This isn't a post about joy, though, this is just one to remind myself that the rest of the world still exists.
I keep trying. I have to keep trying, there's part of me that still wants to fix this, and it's so dumb. I can't fix what I broke. And I know intellectually that his reaction is his choice, that I loved him enough that I still love him. This wouldn't hurt me so much if I didn't still love him, didn't want to still be friends with him, and that's not going to happen, either. Which makes me wonder if I'll get over this, ever get over feeling guilty about him, ever get over missing being the Jenny Monkey.
I can tell myself or Dash that I know it's his choice all I want. I can know that a person makes their own choices about how they're going to be, about whether they'll grow from an experience and learn from it, or shrink. But I was raised to believe that I am my brother's keeper, and I can't duck the responsibility for my own actions, at least not while I'm being honest with myself. And yet, to think that Doyle can't own his own reactions and that they're my fault is it's own form of vanity and pride. I'm responsible for me and my actions, and I did the best I could with him. It wasn't enough, it'll never be enough, I'll never be able to change that. I have to live with it. But I want to know where Doyle went, where that kind, funny, sweet human being who cared about people went. I miss that person. I hate to think I killed him, but I think I did.
Will's missing. Woody's missing. Jacq's missing, she stopped showing up to work, before they found the rotting food in her room. Julia and Andrea are missing. And I haven't had the nerve to go finding that corner of Randall that I know exists because of Kimberly Sweet's journal, the one that may hold Chrissie Marlowe and Julia Verne. I still wonder if I started this, if it was me messing with the Ouija board that woke all this up, and I'm scared. Ari's off her head, every time I get near her during class hours, she gives me a look, and I end up not talking to her because I think it might break her. Ailey lost it, the other day, I got the feeling that she hasn't let herself cry at all, and then there she was, hysterical and scared, and all I can do is try my best to offer distraction while we gear up to invade the tunnels and go hunting for missing people, and pray that we find them alive instead of dead. Dash thinks Woody's dead. I don't know, I don't want to think it. Was it ghosts? Was it Washington Irving, who can't seem to incarnate? He plagued Kim Sweet, he plagued me, I don't know how to deal with any of this, and worse, Frankie doesn't believe in any of this. Jules does. She's staying with someone else, and Ian and I both worry so much about Frankie, but you can't force someone to move. And yet, someone from on-campus posted a video to Will's website. And as far as I know, only Will could have done that. Where are you, Will? Where are you, Woody?
I don't talk about any of this to people. Not Doyle, not my lingering guilt over him or the Ouija board, not my fears for Frankie. I have to be strong, I have to fix this, I have to. Besides, Ian would tell me I was enjoying a roll in self-pity and get over it. I can't say he'd be wrong, but that's where you get into the question of where does your responsibility end and someone else's begin? Besides, except for the guilt and fear? I've never been this happy in my life. I'm mostly pretty balanced, and Ian is...Ian. What more needs to be said about him? This isn't a post about joy, though, this is just one to remind myself that the rest of the world still exists.