Did I know that my life was going to lead me here, square in the middle of all this chaos, with the only escape plan being to do it all over again, write out a new list of goals and pen out a new set of morals? Did I know that one day, I'd let go of the one and only thing that made me sane and took in something that was bound to hurt me day in and day out and I'd just be standing here, stock still, taking all of it and more each and everyday like I don't even care about the consequences, to my body, my mind, my soul, because I am too far gone?
It's like way back last year, when I did what I did in May (God, that felt like such a long time ago and yet, here I am thinking, wow, it's been a year) for the greater freaking good, I did that because I didn't want anyone (particularly me) to get hurt. And, all right, maybe it was just me, holding out hope for something that was a stupid and hopeless cause and I'll stand here today and admit to it: I did it because I wanted to test the waters, see if I could somehow convince people of two things simultaneously. One, that I was perfectly linear and two, that I could bend the situation until things turned in my favor. Of course, neither really worked, nothing really happened, and what happened instead was just a whole lot of crying and one very awkward movie trip to a mall.
But it's also like when that happened, when all of that happened, I let go of the last and only thing that kept me tethered to reality. Like I just decided, well, I'm too far gone and too not right in the head, why keep this? Why should I even try to belong in a community that advocated everything I was not last year. A good person. A brave person. A person who would sacrifice a lot for the people they love. Maybe I pushed Harry Potter away, maybe it pushed me away. Maybe the numbness and the coldness that I felt ever since then in regards to the fandom was simply because I had shut out that part of my mind completely. And yet that can't possibly be true because ask me anything and I'll still have the advantage.
But I'm not That Harry Potter Girl anymore. Will I ever be? I'm That Chris Colfer girl. I'm on the same page and equal footing as Divyia when it comes to stanning crazy. I'm not saying that's bad. I'm not saying that being a fan of Justin Bieber is any less of a thrilling experience than being a Potterhead (although, I wouldn't know for sure as I haven't experienced the former - secondhand experience counts, though, right? I sit in the same row as Aly and Nina, after all). I'm saying that Glee is all I ever talk about now. And it used to be when the going get's tough, hang onto Harry Potter and everything will be all right. It's calming. It's like sinking your head into an old pillow after a hard day of pounding the pavements. It's like home. I don't have that now. Call me crazy, call me fantastically delusional or psychotic, I'm used to it, and I know how ridiculous it is to hear that I practically orbit my entire life around a children's fantasy series fandom, but I don't care. Or didn't. I'm non too sure about the usage of tenses here. But regardless of the question of my mental health, it's true. I'd get depressed sometimes, sure, when I hear of all the fun people are having at conferences or Wrock concerts or signings or whatever, but I'd come to and realize that it doesn't matter where I'm from, what matters is that I just like it. I just love it so, so much and I won't let go of it for anything in the whole world.
But I have.
I love Chris. We all know that. And we all know that unlike most of my friends, I'm not fickle. I'll never in a million years say I hate the Jonas Brothers, because I don't. I admire them for their tenacity and resilience and the fact that they just seem like all around nice people who were raised impeccably well by their parents (although lately I've stopped listening to them because they're just not my cup of tea anymore but if I'm in the mood for nostalgia, I'd sift through "It's About Time" but I skip most of the songs on their later albums). I'll never say I hate Adam Lambert even though he looks like the guardian of hell now. He's still hot underneath all that black and his voice, his sense of humor, his talent - undeniable. I still think Harmony is a waste of time and Harmonians are a waste of my time. I don't jump ship. I don't change my mind often. I just don't do it. I'll probably end up loving Chris until the day I die.
But what Harry Potter brought to my life, and what Glee brought to my life, those are two completely different things. With Harry Potter, I feel calm and collected, a few lines of angst fanfiction in the morning is enough to power me through the day. With Harry Potter, I can read the books over and over again and just feel like the life I'm leading is worth it, no matter whatever else is going on. With Glee, I read fanfiction (well, the fanfiction that I do read anyways) and I think to myself, "Wait, this is wrong. You've gotta stop. There's got to be something better you can do with your time," and it's true that this applies for HP fanfiction, too, but only when it's near exam time. With Glee, I rewatch episodes and still feel unsatisfied. Long story short, Harry Potter makes me calm and Glee agitates me.
I can keep up an intelligent conversation for both fandoms (although I'm more focused for Season 2 for Glee) and I can even mix them up and read fanfiction from different fandoms on the same day. But I just don't know why I'm doing this to myself. Harry Potter's never made me fling a magazine across the room. Harry Potter's never made me hate people (I found the wank to be hilarious). Harry Potter's never made me question everything I knew about myself and then some (the sorcery stuff never even got tangled up in religion, at freaking all). Harry Potter was just a better drug, one that wasn't as destructive.
And it's destroying me from the inside out right now, you can just tell. It's the Goddamn parallels, and the simple fact that I just shouldn't, you know? It's the trippy atmosphere and the candy coated vapidness of the show that just makes me want to bang my head against a wall and do something worthwhile with my time for once in my damn life. I can't do it and I don't know why. I can't go back to being that person again and I don't know why.
I also don't know what my problem is with letting things go. I need to, soon, I know, but like I said, my loyalties are surprisingly foolproof. It's like bring me to his house today (and I'm not talking about Maze, I'm talking about someone else) and I'll grovel on my knees for him to forgive me even though I know he's forgotten every single damn thing about me and how we used to be friends and no, he doesn't care that my heart still does things when I see him in passing, when the world decides to make puppets out of already stringed up human beings and laugh at the coincidences that occur when the stupid stars do align. It's like I don't even care if there are mountains of people standing in our way, I'll climb them all for you and every time I see you, even if Maze is around, or other people, whatever, I still just want to hug you forever and never let you go. It's like I know however many people come and go in your life, it's never really going to matter because you've been there and you've been there more than a zillion times and I'm just this silly little blip on the timeline of your fourteen year old life, it doesn't matter and I don't care; I'll still always make that effort, I'll still always be there for you and I'll still always love you. And if the worst happens years from now, if we don't make it, then I know I'll have one more extra excess baggage to carry around with me but for now, no, we're not through yet.
That makes, what, four people? Four people I'll never get over because they have (and I hate this expression and I hate cliches, but what other choice of words have I got the option to choose from?) a part of my heart, however little, however big, because I carelessly thought that there was such a thing as falling in love with your best friend and getting over it.
I had a dream a few weeks ago, after toiling and playing around with the idea of telling Nadiah what she (not Nadiah) suspected of my feelings. I fell asleep, an after Zuhur nap, which are just the worst, and there was that dream, with you chasing me around and telling me that I had to stay, that I couldn't go; you know, regular stuff like that, regular stuff that I didn't have the courage to actually do myself. And I just couldn't after that. Before, I sort of knew with every atom in me that it couldn't possibly be true but afterwards I was rethinking some stuff and maybe it's because she said it, you know, maybe it's just her, just the fact that I can't refuse her anything, I can't deny her anything. I came to the solid conclusion on Monday, however, after it just hit me mid-song shuffling on my iPod, and I'm not looking back. I know myself and I don't need her or anyone else telling me otherwise. Just a friend. Always just a friend and nothing more and that makes it all that much harder. That means no excuses about how crazy I'm acting because I'm in love or in crush-mode or whatever. Whatever I've done so far concerning this situation, is entirely because I'm just a friend. And I realize that makes me all the more crazy and I realize that I've ruined everything, friendship or otherwise (not that there is an otherwise), because of some stupid ego trip I had in the midst of all of that confusion and I'm not going to try to fix something that is irreparably broken because I'm not even sure what was perfectly fine in April was an ideal kind of perfectly fine, or a tinted kind of perfectly fine. Now that I've settled this with myself, maybe I can move on. Just like my friendship with Afreena, this book's coming to a close. This is all just falling action. I'd give it two years for a proper resolution but, well, I don't like playing God.
I'm still gonna talk about dreams, because D has made some startlingly constant appearances in my dreams. It's like last year, I guess, when the horribly depressing dreams were going on, the vivid ones, the ones involving a whole cast of characters and the intricate and intimate minute details of everything and anything. But these dreams just basically circle around D. It's like I'm worshiping D, in my head, in my subconscious and it happens all the time, every time I close my eyes, every single dream, every single one. And I can't handle it anymore. I can't handle the stress of having to worry about whether I'm going to dream another dream or not, I can't handle the fact that it's so near exams week and I am this worried about something that should have been resolved ages ago. I can't sleep properly. I wake up in the middle of the night and I just want to pick up the phone and make one really awkward phone call after another but I know I can't. I know there's got to be a boundary because I was wrong before when I said that distance removes all filters. Distance just adds like ten thousand more filters to swim through.
Polar opposite to how I think the book's ending and ending faster than it should with that first predicament, this thing with D was supposed to end last year. It was supposed to end November 19th, 2010, and it was never supposed to be brought up again. I resolved whatever I needed to that day, in a rush or not, and God forbid I thought that that was that. Or you know, two days before school reopened, maybe that was the conclusion to the never-even-got-it-on star crossed love story but whatever was supposed to happen, didn't. Instead, I just got into it more, I just dug a deeper hole for myself and I don't even have Harry Potter to catch me on his Firebolt if I fall.