Answers and Weltschmerz
So you guys got all of the screen caps right... EXCEPT #2 ("The Sandlot") and #3 ("American Grafitti.") Now, I can accept your apology for not seeing AG, but "The Sandlot"? Are you serious? That movie was an integral part of my childhood...
Things have not been going well in my life. I mean, they have been going OK, but the end of the year looms in the near future, and all the accompanying sadness that goes with it. This year has been really great for the most part, and I have become a better person because of it, but soon it is going to end and I will have to start all over again. That scares me. I hate change. Once I establish myself somewhere, I like to keep it the same. It is extremely hard for me to make new friends and adapt to new situations, because I don't trust people until I've known them for a while.
But maybe my biggest fear is that, as much as I need the kids in my hall, I don't think they need me at all. And I hate that. I need to be needed. I feel like there are so few people in this world that really need me, and the number dwindles more every day.
What's really getting me down, though, is that I told the boy I liked that I liked him, and... he didn't like me back. Now, I know this shouldn't bother me. Being honest with people runs the risk of being open and vulnerable, and by doing so, you know you might get hurt. But this has happened four times. Four times. Could I have a worse track record? You think that very few people could try something four times and fail at it every time...
The worst part is that I am a person that gets very down on herself, so whenever someone rejects me, I assume it's because I did something wrong. As much as people tell me that it usually isn't that, I can't get my mind to accept the fact. It's like how people say, "All you need is a little confidence in yourself." But confidence? About what? I really don't think I'm all that special when it comes right down to it. I don't offer anything to the world that millions of other people don't offer already.
I really shouldn't have fallen for him. He is the only boy I have ever liked who has been out of my league--usually I know to stay in my league. But with him, I couldn't help it. Not only is he insanely cute, he is also so nice and perceptive and honest and funny. He is nice to ME. To ME. Why would anyone good-looking want to pay attention to ME? And he invited me over to his room many a time to watch movies and always sits with me in the dining hall when no one else does and is one of the few people on this earth that, when I talk about poetry, actually finds it interesting and listens to what I have to say not just because he's trying to be polite, but because the subject truly interests him.
To recap, me (on the left):
Him (in the blue):
I asked myself, "Why would a boy like this want to hang out with me other than he likes me? He must like me." So I talked myself into it and decided to confront him about it. Of course there was that little voice in the back of my head--"He is way too good-looking and popular for you, Francie; better not!"--but I didn't listen. (And I'm not sure why. It seems to me like 99% of the problems in the world are due to people not listening to that voice.)
So we were at a party and both tipsy. (Yes, I fear rejection so much that I can't admit my true feelings about people without a little liquid courage.) And all of a sudden he was gone and I went out into the stairwell and asked him where he was going. This might be better as a play:
Him: "I'm going to watch a movie with some friends in B-wing."
Me (mustering up every bit of courage I could): "No. Don't. Come to my room."
Him: "Why?"
Me: "Because, Michael, I like you. Do you like me?"
Him (slight pause): "No, Francie. I like you, but not in that way. And actually the reason I want to go this room is because the girl I like is in there."
Me: "Oh." (hastily trying to regain some self-respect) "Well, I didn't tell you this before because I thought it might be awkward if it turned out this way."
Him: "Francie, I'm not an awkward person."
Me: "I know, but..." (wondering why he doesn't realize that I am the most awkward person in existence)
Him: "Sorry if I broke your heart back there."
Me (just wanting to get away from it all at this point and lying through my teeth): "No, it's OK." (Then being honest) "Good luck with that girl, OK?" (Because, hell, even if I can't get any, he should be allowed to, right?)
I walked away, and he watched me walk away.
Then, of course, I came back, lay on my bed, and for about 5 minutes just sat there in stunned silence, kinda like those few seconds between stubbing your toe and actually feeling the pain when you know that terrible feeling is coming but you can't do anything but just wait for it to come.
Then I burst into tears and got online because I needed to vent but it was too late to call my house and talk to Kelly because I might've woken up my parents. So I IMed Em Gray for a while and then talked to Em Marmaduke about it on the phone for a good half-hour. And this wasn't, like, a few stalwart, manly tears. I was crying my lungs out and my entire face was covered in mucus. I marvel that Em could even understand anything that I had to say between all of my weeping and stuffed-up nose.
And then he sent me this e-mail:
You know when you came over to my room and I told you to stop apologizing for stuff? Now its my turn to fill in the gaps. I'm sorry about letting you down tonight. I'm sorry if I ever gave you the wrong impression, I'm sorry if you spent too much time thinking and now thoughts can't leave your head. I'm sorry I said no. I've always wanted the best for us, you have an amazingly unique personality and I love talking with you. Thanks for sharing your feelings, and I'm sorry I let you down when you were vulnerable. Its been a great year, francie. I'm glad you were a part of it. Thank you for everything, for the gifts, the tickets, the notes and the enthusiasm. Now let us go wildly into the summer sun, with days vibrating with the buzz of all things saying hello at the same time.
love, michael
It's not really that it's this boy--it's just that I am so sick of being the ugly yet nice one. The ugly yet interesting one. I am so sick of being ugly. I fantasize about what I would do if for one day I could just be one of the pretty girls. They just don't appreciate it. Sometimes I wish everyone was blind so stupid looks wouldn't matter. Looks--God, I hate them. I hate them. They keep me back from everything I want.
And perhaps my deepest fear, which is silly at this age, but--I'm always afraid I'll never get married. I know I shouldn't be worrying about this yet, because I am only 20, but I just know that I am the kind of person that needs to get married, and also the kind of person that probably never will. And that just kills me.
Also, this boy is my friend over everything else, and now I'm afraid that's going to be lost just because of my stupid, stupid hormones. But I want to stay his friend.
I just sit there, wondering, "What's so wrong with me? I am as nice and funny and kind and good-natured and helpful and generous and fun as I can be--what more can I do? Am I really that hideous?"
Perhaps this is what drives people to plastic surgery...
And now I have a huge 10-page paper I have to write by 5 PM tomorrow on books I haven't read and it is the only thing standing in between me and summer, but it might as well be the Great Wall of China. And last night was the most terrible night of insomnia I've ever had--I just could not fall asleep. And I don't know whether to pull an all-nighter on 3 hours of sleep or to go to bed and try this all tomorrow...
I think I will go to bed. But I suck.
Things have not been going well in my life. I mean, they have been going OK, but the end of the year looms in the near future, and all the accompanying sadness that goes with it. This year has been really great for the most part, and I have become a better person because of it, but soon it is going to end and I will have to start all over again. That scares me. I hate change. Once I establish myself somewhere, I like to keep it the same. It is extremely hard for me to make new friends and adapt to new situations, because I don't trust people until I've known them for a while.
But maybe my biggest fear is that, as much as I need the kids in my hall, I don't think they need me at all. And I hate that. I need to be needed. I feel like there are so few people in this world that really need me, and the number dwindles more every day.
What's really getting me down, though, is that I told the boy I liked that I liked him, and... he didn't like me back. Now, I know this shouldn't bother me. Being honest with people runs the risk of being open and vulnerable, and by doing so, you know you might get hurt. But this has happened four times. Four times. Could I have a worse track record? You think that very few people could try something four times and fail at it every time...
The worst part is that I am a person that gets very down on herself, so whenever someone rejects me, I assume it's because I did something wrong. As much as people tell me that it usually isn't that, I can't get my mind to accept the fact. It's like how people say, "All you need is a little confidence in yourself." But confidence? About what? I really don't think I'm all that special when it comes right down to it. I don't offer anything to the world that millions of other people don't offer already.
I really shouldn't have fallen for him. He is the only boy I have ever liked who has been out of my league--usually I know to stay in my league. But with him, I couldn't help it. Not only is he insanely cute, he is also so nice and perceptive and honest and funny. He is nice to ME. To ME. Why would anyone good-looking want to pay attention to ME? And he invited me over to his room many a time to watch movies and always sits with me in the dining hall when no one else does and is one of the few people on this earth that, when I talk about poetry, actually finds it interesting and listens to what I have to say not just because he's trying to be polite, but because the subject truly interests him.
To recap, me (on the left):
Him (in the blue):
I asked myself, "Why would a boy like this want to hang out with me other than he likes me? He must like me." So I talked myself into it and decided to confront him about it. Of course there was that little voice in the back of my head--"He is way too good-looking and popular for you, Francie; better not!"--but I didn't listen. (And I'm not sure why. It seems to me like 99% of the problems in the world are due to people not listening to that voice.)
So we were at a party and both tipsy. (Yes, I fear rejection so much that I can't admit my true feelings about people without a little liquid courage.) And all of a sudden he was gone and I went out into the stairwell and asked him where he was going. This might be better as a play:
Him: "I'm going to watch a movie with some friends in B-wing."
Me (mustering up every bit of courage I could): "No. Don't. Come to my room."
Him: "Why?"
Me: "Because, Michael, I like you. Do you like me?"
Him (slight pause): "No, Francie. I like you, but not in that way. And actually the reason I want to go this room is because the girl I like is in there."
Me: "Oh." (hastily trying to regain some self-respect) "Well, I didn't tell you this before because I thought it might be awkward if it turned out this way."
Him: "Francie, I'm not an awkward person."
Me: "I know, but..." (wondering why he doesn't realize that I am the most awkward person in existence)
Him: "Sorry if I broke your heart back there."
Me (just wanting to get away from it all at this point and lying through my teeth): "No, it's OK." (Then being honest) "Good luck with that girl, OK?" (Because, hell, even if I can't get any, he should be allowed to, right?)
I walked away, and he watched me walk away.
Then, of course, I came back, lay on my bed, and for about 5 minutes just sat there in stunned silence, kinda like those few seconds between stubbing your toe and actually feeling the pain when you know that terrible feeling is coming but you can't do anything but just wait for it to come.
Then I burst into tears and got online because I needed to vent but it was too late to call my house and talk to Kelly because I might've woken up my parents. So I IMed Em Gray for a while and then talked to Em Marmaduke about it on the phone for a good half-hour. And this wasn't, like, a few stalwart, manly tears. I was crying my lungs out and my entire face was covered in mucus. I marvel that Em could even understand anything that I had to say between all of my weeping and stuffed-up nose.
And then he sent me this e-mail:
You know when you came over to my room and I told you to stop apologizing for stuff? Now its my turn to fill in the gaps. I'm sorry about letting you down tonight. I'm sorry if I ever gave you the wrong impression, I'm sorry if you spent too much time thinking and now thoughts can't leave your head. I'm sorry I said no. I've always wanted the best for us, you have an amazingly unique personality and I love talking with you. Thanks for sharing your feelings, and I'm sorry I let you down when you were vulnerable. Its been a great year, francie. I'm glad you were a part of it. Thank you for everything, for the gifts, the tickets, the notes and the enthusiasm. Now let us go wildly into the summer sun, with days vibrating with the buzz of all things saying hello at the same time.
love, michael
It's not really that it's this boy--it's just that I am so sick of being the ugly yet nice one. The ugly yet interesting one. I am so sick of being ugly. I fantasize about what I would do if for one day I could just be one of the pretty girls. They just don't appreciate it. Sometimes I wish everyone was blind so stupid looks wouldn't matter. Looks--God, I hate them. I hate them. They keep me back from everything I want.
And perhaps my deepest fear, which is silly at this age, but--I'm always afraid I'll never get married. I know I shouldn't be worrying about this yet, because I am only 20, but I just know that I am the kind of person that needs to get married, and also the kind of person that probably never will. And that just kills me.
Also, this boy is my friend over everything else, and now I'm afraid that's going to be lost just because of my stupid, stupid hormones. But I want to stay his friend.
I just sit there, wondering, "What's so wrong with me? I am as nice and funny and kind and good-natured and helpful and generous and fun as I can be--what more can I do? Am I really that hideous?"
Perhaps this is what drives people to plastic surgery...
And now I have a huge 10-page paper I have to write by 5 PM tomorrow on books I haven't read and it is the only thing standing in between me and summer, but it might as well be the Great Wall of China. And last night was the most terrible night of insomnia I've ever had--I just could not fall asleep. And I don't know whether to pull an all-nighter on 3 hours of sleep or to go to bed and try this all tomorrow...
I think I will go to bed. But I suck.