Closure

03:40, 20 April 2003

Tonight fully, absolutely and completely sucked. Marc and I went to the Pig n' Whistle. I told Marc about my issues with Piyush's departure. Marc said I should just enjoy it now and not have any expecations for later. Sweet.

Piyush finally showed up at about midnight. He was tired, having driven all the way to Orange County and back. He had, like, one drink.

At one point, whilst we had a cigarette outside, he asked me what I was thinking, probably because I looked like the saddest person on earth. I was really torn up about the whole thing, as you know from today's earlier entries. I told him, "I can't like you anymore." He said, "After I leave we'll still be really good friends." Oh, thank you so much. Hold on; I need to jump around for joy for just one second.

Everyone has at least one talent, right? Well, mine is closure. At that point, I shut. Like when a shop in a bad part of town rolls down that metal screen at night, I shut. We left. He drove me home. I was silent, smoking my cigarette violently out the window. I did not kiss him goodbye on the cheek.

I stalked upstairs, talking to myself the whole way like a total psychotic. The main topic of conversation was how I could be so stupid as to let my guard down like this. I mean, please, what an obvious situation this is, huh? Not like no one saw it coming. Apparently, I'm trying to purchase some real estate in the sky. Up there in the clouds where I keep my head.

When I got inside, I started my computer. He IM'd me, asking if I was OK. As much as one can convey emotion via a chat program, I was icier than the Titanic's doom. He wrote, "Well, you seem to be in a bad mood..." Are you on crack? Of course I'm in a fucking "bad mood"! Earlier I'd attempted to explain to him that I never like guys and the way I felt about him was so rare. Could I have felt like a bigger idiot? Desperate girl clinging to the stoic, unflappable guy. Please. We've all heard this story before, haven't we? Well, frankly, I'm not willing to play the starlet role offered to me in this film. At the conclusion of the cigarette which had opened that conversation, the door began creaking shut.

By the time he dropped me off, the door was shut--almost locked. When he IM'd me, it was locked up tight. I told him I'd tell him the reason for my "bad mood" next time we talked. Which is fine, considering that the next time we talk I'll be so insulated against all he is, says and does that he won't even make an impact on my conscience.

Like I said earlier, closure comes easily to me. And it is the safest. And I guarantee you, this episode has taught me a lesson. What a bad idea this "emotional intimacy" thing was. Seriously, this whole experiment was completely and totally not worth it. How is it better to open up a tentative and vulnerable heart only to have it trampled upon before it's out of the starting gate? Why is it bad that I have armour and protect myself from this sort of shit?

OK, OK, sure. One can argue that acknowledging and addressing one's feelings is the best because one enjoys the highs despite enduring the lows. Sorry to burst your fucking bubble, here, but frankly, fuck the highs. I've never met a high that was worth all the lows. I'd rather not feel anything, to tell you the truth. Why mess with success? I've done OK in my 23 years not allowing myself to feel anything. Now, I gave it a shot, it sucked and I'm over it. We all make mistakes. I won't make this one again.

As Madonna said in a recent song:
I'm gonna avoid the cliche
I'm gonna suspend my senses
I'm gonna delay my pleasure
I'm gonna close my body now
I guess I'll die another day...
Piyush, you are not going to end me. Don't IM me your "concern." Don't tell me we'll be "good friends". You have no idea of the capacity of detachment of which I'm capable. You will be amazed at the seeming lightswitch of my affections. Black or white; such is my life. Grey is an fantasy to me, like unicorns and griffons. It may exist, but hopes should not be wagered on it.

Unglued

19:43, 19 April 2003

Well, isn't this just super? I took a nap, awakened by Piyush calling my cellphone. He unexpectedly had to go down to Orange County tonight and is going to meet up with us wherever we go tonight. There are several reasons why this scenario does not exactly light up my life.

First, Piyush is pretty much the glue of our group, from my perspective. Manbir is Piyush's friend. Marc is more Piyush's friend than mine, although he's my friend too. And then there's me, obviously friends-plus with Piyush. So without him, I have some trepidation about going out with the rest. We all know I'm only there for Piyush, right?

Second, I'm willing to bet that Piyush doesn't make it out. He's got to drop a relative off in Orange County at 22:00, but I doubt he's going to escape his family's clutches fast enough to get back up to LA by 23:30, which is the ETA he projected. However, I should not underestimate the guy's need for a drink after studying all day and then driving to Orange County and back. Maybe it helps his motivation that I will be there? After today's events, I can't exactly be sure.

Third... well... there is not third. Because now I'm going to start drinking. Piyush isn't involved in the beginning of this night and so I can get a little bit chipper beforehand. My stomach's all sorted out now after my nap. I just asked my cellphone's fortune teller whether I would see Piyush tonight. It said "definitely yes, but you have to change." Well, no shit, Sherlock. I'm sitting here in a bathrobe, for god's sake.

Nausea

17:20, 19 April 2003

I was just sick. Anxiety stomach strikes again. For lunch I ate a perfectly OK meal of Mongolian barbecue: pork, lamb, and vegetables sauteed with a seasoned soy sauce.

Afterwards, as Piyush drove me home, I began feeling a bit nauseous. I assumed it was just the cigarette I was smoking (since I'm not really a smoker--only with Piyush, really). I got home and the nausea pressure was increasing; I felt like I had a hundred pound churning mass in my stomach. I laid down in my bed for a nap, but my stomach was unbearably uncomfortable. Bathroom. The nausea came to its fruition. And the way I know it was anxiety stomach is that the nausea didn't go away after I threw up. It's still there, only now I'm chilled to the bone and feeling like my innards were ripped out, pounded with a sledgehammer and stuffed back into me.

The library excursion, needless to say, had something to do with this. I felt like we were... well... "off" today. It was going fine at first: I made him breakfast (a perfect omelette which he highly praised), we went to school. I tried really hard not to think about the leaving thing. We studied, uneventfully.

The trouble started when we decided to go get lunch. We walked to the food court near campus. I felt awkward as we walked, saddened and straining for any of the positivity I usually feel with him. Our conversation seemed halting and shallow, a repetition of things we've said a million times before. The connection between us seemed weaker than it has been. I felt there was a stagnancy, as if we'd reached the end of things to talk about, questions to ask, things to discover about each other.

The feeling continued through lunch. I'd say some trival comment or another to try to spark a conversation, he'd say something else, I'd say something else. But it was like turning the knob on your gas stove-top and the lighter thing just clicks and clicks and doesn't spark up the gas. Nothing caught; no topic stuck; silences filled the space between our voices.

This continued on the drive home. I got quieter, more nauseous. I wanted to take his hand, touch his shoulder, establish any contact I could. I did nothing. The parade of disconnected, meaningless comments continued. I felt heavy, sad, hopeless and extremely nauseous. And overall, resigned. Accepting of this denouement, unable to muster energy to try to change it. We kissed goodbye, on the cheek, and said we'd speak later.

I wonder if my perception of the whole thing is coloured by my mood this morning. Why, then, would it have started out so well? I wonder if our conversation this afternoon was any different than it normally is. I wonder if I was just tired. I wonder if this was a self-fulfilling prophecy. Was this the start of an unconscious withdrawal from this relationship? Is this Revulsion's cousin, perhaps--not so violent and visceral this time, but rather a plodding nausea of Resignation? I wonder if he noticed a change, too?

We're going out tonight: the group of us. It will be like last night, I'm sure. My diet pills and our alcohol will foster a false connection. He'll be affectionate, we'll kiss, etc. But now it seems that this relationship is a gutter ball, settling into that rut, that schizophrenic relationship that is cool in the sunlight and warm in the chilly night. There just doesn't seem to be any point to this, anymore.

Premature

09:30, 19 April 2003

Shit. Shit shit shitskies. I feel the wave of apprehension rise in my mind, curling up from my spine, up up up, cresting, poised to crash in a boil of turbulence over my entire consciousness. He's leaving, you know.

Like a curry that tastes mildly spicy at first bite but gradually becomes more and more intense until the pain is unbearable, last night's discussion of his departure is a spreading fire in my mind. I don't want to like him anymore. I'm thinking about how close we're becoming, how well this relationship is going, how much progress I've made and how unexpectedly this flower blossomed from seemingly barren soil. I'm thinking about him arriving this morning and my brain is running away. I don't want to set myself up for this.

I know this feeling is premature; I should follow the advice of the quote above; I should enjoy the Now, for now. I'm sorry, but I can't do that. I can't ignore the time limits. I wrote a poem about this once, when was dating a guy in London and I was going home on August 7th, my summer abroad program finished.
And now I�m cold again
because I thought instead of did
and the precipice which is the 7th has frightened me
and I�d rather sit out than enjoy the merry dance into the chasm
whose approach I cannot slow

I feel that way now. I don't want feel this. In a cost/benefit analysis of this situation, the negatives seem to outweigh the positives to me. Is finite happiness one has now better than potential infinite happiness one may find later? I'm not sure. Some say a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. But if you know the bird you hold must fly away, perhaps it's best to let it go and take your chances on the birds in the bush that may not desert you.

Comfortable

06:03, 19 April 2003

Another entry written by the weirdo who wakes up at 6:00, sans alarm, after a night of drinking that got her home at two and a half hours ago. Another entry written by a total scrub in her massive sweatshirt, pajama pants and dork-ass glasses. Another entry that begins with "heee the freakin' hee hee hee!"

So last night I was stressing about whether Piyush would want to hang out after studying (preferably going out to have fun or staying in to watch TV or whatever... anything together). So, given this morning's doughboy-style "hee hee," I'm sure you can guess that we did hang out.

First, let me mention that I had absolutely no anxiety whilst waiting for him to pick me up, nor any Revulsion upon climbing into the car with him. In fact, whilst studying I really wanted to give him a quick kiss or sit closer to him on the couch. OK, OK, pick yourself up off the floor where you just fell off your chair in slack-jawed shock.

We studied from 17:30 to 20:30 in the library. We spent those three hours in the libes studying for real: silently intent on our own books. Then we went to dinner, discovering this place on 3rd street called G. Garvin's, which I highly recommend to all my city-mates. We got some rum and diets, I got the baby-back rib appetizer, which was plenty of food and so amazingly delicious, since I love falling-off-the-bone ribs smothered in barbeque sauce. Holy yum.

He dropped me off at home to change, then Marc picked me up and we went to Maloney's near the UCLA campus. It was a total undergrad frat bar and as such had the greatest music: both 50 Cent hits, Nelly hits, Margaritaville, Blister in the Sun, I Love Rock n' Roll and myriad other favourites. God, I was singing every goddamn song and watching all the undergrad skank-chicks grinding on the dance floor like I used to when I was a little drunken quasi-slut. It was great.

Whilst at the restaurant, I had told Piyush about how I prefered hanging out with him less drunk, because I enjoy spending time with him and don't need to be drunk around him. He said he'd help me not drink so much. And then he bought me four rum and diets at Maloney's. Ha ha ha. Regardless, I was in full command of my senses all night. Which was strange for me: I did have the urge to drink more since any smidgen of awkwardness (actual or percieved in my whack-ass mind) drives me right to the bar. But I resisted and was glad I did. I remember everything in superclarity without a tinge of the "did I maybe do something I regret even though I can't think of anything after wringing out my brain like a dishwashing sponge?" this morning.

In the car on the way over, Marc had quizzed me on what was going on with Piyush, but I stonewalled that dangerous line of questioning. Since it was just Piyush, Marc and I going out, it was a bit awkward (if only in my head). I loathe PDA that makes others (or me) uncomfortable, therefore Piyush and I held hands under the table and it was supercute. By the end, he couldn't stop himself from having an arm around me all the time and kissing the side of my head in the most adorable affectionate way now and then. Such a non-threatening, "caring" way of showing he likes me. On the way home, he was in the back of Marc's car with his arms wrapped around me in the front seat. Swoon; cue doughboy. Oh, should I mention at this point that I was the kissed him first? And initiated several kisses? OK, up off the floor again, guys.

A downer last night was mention of him leaving. Because it's true, he is most likely leaving in June. What the fuck am I doing getting so into this? I'm going to have my heart ripped out like a Brazilian bikini wax if I keep going in the direction I'm going. Poor little doughboy, stomped to shit by circumstance. "Wheee-hee"... CLOMP.

So in a couple hours my temporary, evanescent darling will come to pick me up. I promised he could come up to my apartment and I'd make him an omelette before we left for the library. I'm nauseatingly cute like that. We're all (P-funk, Marc, Manbir and his girlfriend Rita) going out tonight, probably to the Pig n' Whistle, where I convinced some UCLA undergrads who were grinding with Marc last night to join us tonight. "Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match..."