September 30. 1999
Today, very bored at work (yes, I pretty much get paid to surf the internet for 5 hours a week. Bite me) I decided to visit my high school's homepage. Not much to tell about it, it has a rather bland design and it's not the easiest to navigate. But the memories it conjured up, mostly bad ones, reminded me just how far I have come since receiving my diploma in early June.
As I said in a previous entry, the texture of my life has shifted. Things that were so familiar and commonplace for me in high school have suddenly become foreign concepts. Pep rallies? Football Games? Homecoming? 45 minute periods? It's odd, and a little disquieting that I can't relate to these things anymore, as much as I hated them.
It's hard to put what I'm feeling into words. Looking back on it now, I see my senior year was comparatively miserable to the rest of my years in high school. Your senior year in high school is supposed to be a time to kick back, have fun and generally slack off in anticipation of graduation. However, this wasn't the case for me. I was (unfortunately or fortunately) afforded a new world view (so to speak) by Governor's School. Suddenly, I was aware of the potential, and how the potential was not being met in my own life. Dissatisfaction and discontentment has dogged me most of my life, but it intensified as my senior year went on. Don't mistake it for unhappiness. I'm not unhappy. Just disappointed because I am not meeting up with whatever I feel I should be doing.
Alot of shit went down my senior year, and most of it transpired between me and my art teachers, Mr. and Mrs. Miller. This is still hard for me to talk about, and to this day I still don't know why it upsets me so much. What happened then makes it really hard for me to trust people now. People who say they love and care about me, and I know they do, but something in me just stops, and I can't let myself completely go.
A bit of background first: I was the kid who practically lived in the art studio throughout most of my high school years. So naturally, I got very close to my art teachers. I considered them my very close friends, I thought of them as equals (which in hindsight was probably a big mistake), and probably even loved them at some point. They were overall great people. About midway through my senior year, things just sort of fell apart. They said I changed, that I was moody and difficult, and was a horrible person to be around. This didn't come gradually. Mr. Miller sat me down one day and said "You're a miserable person to be around, and unless you can change, I don't want to be around you." Out of the blue. The shock to me emotionally was incredible, and I still can't explain why. I sat in Mr. Miller's office and cried for 3 periods.
To make a long story short, things got steadily worse between us, until finally near the end of the year I was producing no art and wouldn't even go to my art classes. To make matters worse, the Millers decided to involve my parents (who, as art teachers, were considered colleagues, even though they worked in a different school district). This was completely out of line. This was between me and them, and telling my parents I was "having problems" was wrong. it was a complete breach of trust on every level, and I haven't forgiven them for it. I don't think I can, yet.
I don't want to ever see them again, yet I know it's pretty likely that I will. I remember thinking, Oh, I'll always go visit them on vacation and hang out with them. They're my friends, they understand me. They'd never do anything to hurt me. Suddenly that tie was severed, and I can't get it back, ever.
I apologize if that whole diatribe was too abstract. The only thing that's still real now is the hurt.
It's so strange. I thought I was at peace with this, I thought I was over it, I thought I had put it behind me. I could finally walk away from it. But now I know that's not the case. The person I am now is incompatible with the person who was a student at Cedar Crest High School. If those two people meet, I'm not sure I want to be around for the carnage.
music: Images and Words, Dream Theater
food: wild cherry Pepsi. now a staple of my diet
read: nothing. no time
sight: our carpet is filthy. ew.
random: death is the first dancing turtle. thought you might want to know.
Better to save the mystery than surrender to the secret
- Another Day, Dream Theater
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