Live, Love, and Hate – by Orpheus

 

Week 82 – Crazy Cat Stories (a long awaited introspective)

 

            (12/26/05 4:31 PM) About the title: Gen and Amy both had a lot of them. That’s something I kinda miss about the two of them, hearing those crazy cat stories and a bunch of other just random stuff that was kinda fun to listen to. Not that Gen’s not talking to me or anything, just not so much as she used to (Week 80 is almost correct on this, though 79 is a bit more accurate as I recall), whereas Amy and I aren’t speaking any more. Sometimes, I still try to strike up a conversation with her. She’ll respond, but not really put any effort into it, really seems just like she’d rather I fuck off and leave her alone. I asked her once if she’d rather I do that, she said she really didn’t care, which I suppose is a little worse.

 

            I can remember back when I was in summer school PE I’d threatened to kill Tim over something. He said he knew I wouldn’t because of R, because I’d never again get to see “the love of my life” as he called her. Kinda funny, even then I didn’t think it was a very good description, mostly because I was only 14, not much of a life yet, y’know? But also because we’d been having the Jay-fight (did I ever tell you, dear imaginary readers, that he moved back? Well, he did), and also . . . it just didn’t seem quite right, y’know? That was a rather depressing thought, that she just wasn’t right.

 

            Y’know, sometimes, it still keeps me up at night, wondering if things’d have been different if I hadn’t gone ahead with Op Two-Faced. Sometimes, I think so, I really do, because that’s what tore us apart, well, that and the stupid thing with Jay. But other times, I don’t think so; I think we were really just growing apart. Another thing that bugs me a lot is that, when I first met her, she said that the fights she had with her “boyfriend” were always his/her/its (she used “his” but I’m really not sure which is really the right one to use) fault. But then, when we were fighting there in the end, after Orange Wednesday, she acted like it was my fault. Admittedly, it partly was, but not entirely like she made it seem. I’ve been thinking a lot, lately, about back then, about December of 8^th grade, when I met her.

 

            Amy’s also been on my mind a lot. Mostly how she really did seem to love me back, y’know? How she’d said that I was the only thing keeping her from killing herself. Also, really heavy in my thoughts has been something Nicole (Amy’s best friend) told me on the night that Amy said she didn’t love me anymore (a week or two before Halloween, when she’d come out of the closet), she said that “Amy likes you a lot, maybe even loves you” the rest was something about how she thought that as Amy’s best friend it was her duty to tell me that something was bugging her (Amy), and how I just needed to give her a little space. Well, I did; great advice, Nicole, you whore. In case that last sentence didn’t tip you off, I don’t like Nicole too much. I mean, mostly it was because we just got off to a bad start. We were starting to get a long a little better there toward the end, the last time we talked she’d said that I was “actually kinda cool”, which is, trust me, a very far cry from the start. I suppose that the reason I’m so embittered regarding her is for her getting my hopes up there. I told her what Amy’d just told me, about her not loving me anymore (her exact phrasing was “[Orpheus], I don’t love anyone”), and Nicole said that that meant there was a better chance of it, that she hadn’t known that Amy’d felt that way about me at all. Or at least I’m pretty sure that’s what happened. After Amy told me that, my memory of that night gets a little unclear. Sometimes, I wonder if there was something I did that caused her to reconsider her orientation, I wonder about that a lot. I always kind of expect to wake up one day to find that it was all some sort of joke, that she’ll just suddenly start being my love again.

 

            Oh, by the way, still haven’t heard back from Frenchie, I’ll probably try one more time in a little while, then just give up altogether. And, Ken, if you’re reading this, FUCK OFF! Keep out of MY business. I’m SICK of hearing you tell me that I should go downstairs sometimes but then I wouldn’t be able to bitch about not knowing my family, and I’m sick of you putting down R, who you’ve never met. You are a bastard, and I hope you die.

 

Signing out. Send things to rant about to [email protected] or suffer.

 

Oh, and also Pictures of You by the Cure

 

“I've been looking so long at these pictures of you

That I almost believe that they're real

I've been living so long with my pictures of you

That I almost believe that the pictures are all I can feel

Remembering you

Standing quiet in the rain

As I ran to your heart to be near

And we kissed as the sky fell in

Holding you close

How I always held close in your fear

Remembering you

Running soft through the night

You were bigger and brighter and whiter than snow

And screamed at the make-believe

Screamed at the sky

And you finally found all your courage

To let it all go

Remembering you

Falling into my arms

Crying for the death of your heart

You were stone white

So delicate

Lost in the cold

You were always so lost in the dark

Remembering you

How you used to be

Slow drowned

You were angels

So much more than everything

Hold for the last time

Then slip away quietly

Open my eyes

But I never see anything

If only I'd thought of the right words

I could have held on to your heart

If only I'd thought of the right words

I wouldn't be breaking apart

All my pictures of you

Looking so long at these pictures of you

But I never hold on to your heart

Looking so long for the words to be true

But always just breaking apart

My pictures of you

There was nothing in the world

That I ever wanted more

Than to feel you deep in my heart

There was nothing in the world

That I ever wanted more

Than to never feel the breaking apart

All my pictures of you”