I love you from the bottom of my brain.

I believe William Shakespeare had it right when he wrote:

“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women are merely players.”

I was really glad that summer finally came, despite the fact that I did have to take my US History and Literature SAT Subject tests the first day of vacation.  I wanted school to end so badly it almost hurt.  Not only did summer mean that I wouldn’t have to go to school again until late August (yay!), but, to me, summer meant the prospect of a new beginning.  I figured I could take these next 2.5 months to sort some things out and get over some of my other—euphemistically put—less than healthy thoughts.  I had it all planned out: first I’d spend some time relaxing and fool myself into thinking that I’d actually start my summer homework before late July; then I’d start my job, and I’d meet some cool new people and learn about art; I’d go on the de Paul Scholar rafting trip and get horribly sunburn; and finally I’d freak out since I’d barely started any homework a week before school; and maybe somewhere in there I could hang out with friends.  It’d be great.  

But you know what the say about the best-laid plans of mice an men.

I thought that I could use the summer to get over some things, but the first day of summer, the last person I wanted to see showed up at my exact SAT site.  I felt like I was in some goddamn TV show on ABC Family or MTV because things like this don’t happen in real life.  It was as though my stomach had migrated into my throat, while my heart ended up somewhere inside my small intestine, and just seeing that person made me experience the worst case of vertigo I’ve probably had in years, but all I could do was smile and wave as if nothing happened, and nothing did happen, has happened.  It shouldn’t have surprised me, though.  This year has been remarkably similar to a badly written, poorly acted teen sitcom.  I bet if this whole year had been recorded and put on the air, its ratings would be through the roof.  Do you want to know what the worst part of all of this is?  That person didn’t even know.  My forced politeness has always been accepted as genuine interest, while my subtle insults aren’t even noticed, and even if they are noticed, the reason for them has remained unknown, and they’re soon overlooked and forgotten anyway.  It’s almost funny, really, how pathetic our situation is—and by “our”, I mean “my”.  It’s like some cruel joke that the world plays, Think what you will, but you can’t tell anyone; you can’t let anyone know because they can’t handle another situation like that.  Put on a brave face and laugh and smile like every-thing’s fine.  The summer will be here soon, and if that doesn’t resolve it, college is just around the corner, too.  I’m sure those starving kids in Africa would do anything to be in your place right now because in comparison, your situation is heaven.

I’ve been holding back this whole time for everyone’s sakes except my own, but I’m tired of being alone in my thoughts, and I’m tired of pretending.  I don’t have anything  left to lose anymore, anyway.  Even my pride has been whittled away these past few months, so I even pride isn’t at stake any longer.  You’re probably not reading this, but on the off chance that you are, I have a few things to say.

1. On February 10th, I lied.
2. I haven’t signed online these past few weeks because I didn’t want to talk to you.  My reasons for that should be fairly transparent now.
3. I’m scared to death that you’ll forget about me.
4. But I honestly hope that you do.
5. I don’t hate you.

That’s about as clear as I’m willing to make it.  Good morning, California.  I hope everyone has a happy Monday.