(no subject)
I didn't want to get up this morning. It was cold and early and the two don't mix well. Found out that I have a D in ASL for missing two assignments. You get what you give. During the whole class period I really, really did not want to be there. I felt sick to my stomach the whole class period and kept thinking, "If I were just not going to come to school one day, today should have been it." Then I realized that if I hadn't stayed home yesterday, chances are the conversation yesterday wouldn't have happened and I would have reason to feel sick today. Way to go, Danielle. *sigh* Oh well... That's life.
Second period was okay. Not great. Never is. Worked on the weekly arts and crafts project he has us do and took notes and did whatever. During the first part of AP Lit we discussed some Romantics authors and the poetry, etc. At some point between second and third period the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach changed mostly into hunger. At lunch I took my report card downstairs (three As and a B in physics, just like first quarter) for my incentive award. For my grades I was rewarded with two candy bars of my choice. Sweet. After lunch, we did a totally awesome thing: we grabbed our books and went outside and read poetry. It was so great, something different to change things up, and it was simply beautiful.
During fourth period, while me, Alamo, Sarah and Marissa moved stuff from the auditorium loft to the back of the auditorium, Marissa and I conjured a murder that happened at Armwood about six years back, along with all the lovely details. Sarah and Alamo actually bought it. It was great. We screamed about a dead body, or rats or something (we weren't sure) and scared them to death, then Alamo realized we were making everything up when Marissa burst out laughing. Good times.
Surprisingly, it was not a completely terrible day.
This afternoon I worked on my homework some, fell asleep, ate dinner, re-read the conversation from last night and now I sit here typing this journal entry, with the sick feeling having returned.
~~~~~~~~
Freddy and I don't fight. We argue, have "heated discussions," but I don't think I can recall a time when we've actually had a fight.
We fought last night, though. It wasn't quite knock-down, drag-out, but it hurt. A lot. I don't think we've ever intentionally said things to hurt each other, but harsh words were thrown last night. It doesn't feel good. A lot of it was my fault. I kept pushing and demanding to keep talking since we were already on subjects we said we'd save to talk about. I like to pick fights, always have, though I have been MUCH better in recent years. But when I get into situations, like last night, when my buttons are being pushed, when I don't feel like I'm understanding or being understood, when hurtful things are said, I'm ready to take off the gloves and throw down. There were some things I said last night that seem to have made such an impression on him, hurt him so badly, and I never imagined that it was something that means a lot to him, something that truly hurts him. I didn't know, but it happened nonetheless. Things were brought up, uncovered, things that should have been dealt with a long time ago, and now they are out there, waiting to be handled. I don't know how to do it. I don't know where this is going to lead us, what effect it's going to have on us... Because of my uncertainty, my indecisiveness, my (possibly) wrong/bad choices, I may end up costing us each other. I don't know. I don't know how this is all going to play out or what's going to happen or how we'll deal with this. I do know I'm really scared though. I kept saying I was sorry, I kept trying to make it better when I knew sorry wasn't going to cut it. I wish there were something I could do, something I could say.
I'm so sorry. I really am. That doesn't help, doesn't fix anything, I know, but I really, truly am. I'm scared, Freddy. It's my fault, it's because of me and I know it. I just don't know what to do, what to say, where to go. I'm so sorry. Please know that. Please forgive me. I beg you, please forgive me.
Second period was okay. Not great. Never is. Worked on the weekly arts and crafts project he has us do and took notes and did whatever. During the first part of AP Lit we discussed some Romantics authors and the poetry, etc. At some point between second and third period the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach changed mostly into hunger. At lunch I took my report card downstairs (three As and a B in physics, just like first quarter) for my incentive award. For my grades I was rewarded with two candy bars of my choice. Sweet. After lunch, we did a totally awesome thing: we grabbed our books and went outside and read poetry. It was so great, something different to change things up, and it was simply beautiful.
During fourth period, while me, Alamo, Sarah and Marissa moved stuff from the auditorium loft to the back of the auditorium, Marissa and I conjured a murder that happened at Armwood about six years back, along with all the lovely details. Sarah and Alamo actually bought it. It was great. We screamed about a dead body, or rats or something (we weren't sure) and scared them to death, then Alamo realized we were making everything up when Marissa burst out laughing. Good times.
Surprisingly, it was not a completely terrible day.
This afternoon I worked on my homework some, fell asleep, ate dinner, re-read the conversation from last night and now I sit here typing this journal entry, with the sick feeling having returned.
~~~~~~~~
Freddy and I don't fight. We argue, have "heated discussions," but I don't think I can recall a time when we've actually had a fight.
We fought last night, though. It wasn't quite knock-down, drag-out, but it hurt. A lot. I don't think we've ever intentionally said things to hurt each other, but harsh words were thrown last night. It doesn't feel good. A lot of it was my fault. I kept pushing and demanding to keep talking since we were already on subjects we said we'd save to talk about. I like to pick fights, always have, though I have been MUCH better in recent years. But when I get into situations, like last night, when my buttons are being pushed, when I don't feel like I'm understanding or being understood, when hurtful things are said, I'm ready to take off the gloves and throw down. There were some things I said last night that seem to have made such an impression on him, hurt him so badly, and I never imagined that it was something that means a lot to him, something that truly hurts him. I didn't know, but it happened nonetheless. Things were brought up, uncovered, things that should have been dealt with a long time ago, and now they are out there, waiting to be handled. I don't know how to do it. I don't know where this is going to lead us, what effect it's going to have on us... Because of my uncertainty, my indecisiveness, my (possibly) wrong/bad choices, I may end up costing us each other. I don't know. I don't know how this is all going to play out or what's going to happen or how we'll deal with this. I do know I'm really scared though. I kept saying I was sorry, I kept trying to make it better when I knew sorry wasn't going to cut it. I wish there were something I could do, something I could say.
I'm so sorry. I really am. That doesn't help, doesn't fix anything, I know, but I really, truly am. I'm scared, Freddy. It's my fault, it's because of me and I know it. I just don't know what to do, what to say, where to go. I'm so sorry. Please know that. Please forgive me. I beg you, please forgive me.