WildSheepChase1

I've written two posts (and feel free to read them, if you need the background information): one describing my rather complicated (or else I'm just completely dilusional) predicament, and one dealing with how I was going to cope with it. It's so much easier to say what you're going to do then actually do it. I keep telling myself "move on, move on," and I want to, but I just don't know how. I moved my seat in creative writing on Monday, and while it gives me a bit of a sense of liberation, it's still so difficult to get on. I've made a promise to myself to avoid her in the halls, and I keep that promise, but it still bugs me. I haven't shown any signs of "weakness" or "longing" in her presense...in fact, I'm as deliriously affable as she was several weeks ago. But on these rainy afternoons, (which seem to be happening a lot these days) I find myself constantly sinking into these slumps. I suppose it's because the fact she refuses to acknowledge my existence bugs me. She won't talk to me, barely looks at me, and when I've tried to offer some sort of olive branch in the past, she swats it down with condescesion and anger. It's completely immature, but it doesn't mean it doesn't nag me. I guess I gives me the sense that, even if it's anger and irritability, she still thinks about me, which means that I wasn't a flake on her shoulder that she brushed off. Because she refuses to acknowledge me gives me the impression that she simply can't deal with me in her life, and I keep driving myself nuts as to why that is. I have this biting sense of irresolution, and I just want some closure. It's really hard to live like this. Don't get me wrong, I haven't shown any signs of weakness or longing in her presense, and I don't see her outside of class. I'm removing her physically from my life, but this irresolution lingers about in my mind and refuses to leave. I know she has "issues." She's told me things that she hasn't told her closest friends. I guess because I know this, I feel like she's trying to cope with this in a really bizarre way. But that's the thing. COPE. As long as I know she has to "deal" with me, especially after two and a half months, I feel as if I still am in her mind. It's not like I brushed off her shoulder, because she can't talk to me. And I know not to be persistent or clingy, so don't give me that lecture. I know that she has to do whatever she needs to do, and I accept that, but it's just so hard not to think about what's going on in her mind. I just want to know what she thinks of me, and why. A bit inaquirable, yes, but I think it's the biggest problem I'm facing. I just want to forget about her. I don't want to think about her that much, at least for a month or two. There has to be some way to do it. Please, anybody, give some advice. But one thing. I am not the righteous ex. I still love her, regardless, and I don't agree with the "screw it, more fish in the sea" mindset. I just want to know how I can still care about her and not have to be bugged by this for a few months.

I'd like to thank most of you for your comments. I've told a ridiculous amount of people about my situation, perhaps too many people, but none have really put it like that. At first, I was really skeptical about posting my sob story on a forum. I read all these posts about some guy or girl overdosing on optimistic cocaine because their ex said, "hi" sometime last week, and wonder if the only reason they post on this forum is because they want to someone to tell them what they want to hear. That sounds incredibly cynical, but I think I have the right to be cynical given the situation. But this forum has made it clearer then ever what I have to do. Come Monday, I've decided just to move my seat. I've told myself to move on, or at least act deliriously affable in her presense, but I know now that I can never really move on as long as I'm sitting next to her. Being in that seat is an artifact of the past. The moment we realized we both read On the Road, we had sat next to each other. It's a sad relic from brighter days. In the past, I had always secretly hoped that somehow, by sitting in this seat I could transport myself back into the past it represents, and that I could come to class one day and find that everything is exactly like it was in September. I had had hung on for so long because I hoped that one day we'd just grow tired of this silence and start talking, and even if things didn't go back to normal, it would be fine, because any change from the current conditions would be at least more normal. But I've tried to talk to her, and she simply refuses. The only thing I get from sitting next to her is the pain of knowing that while I'm so close, she refuses to so much as look at me. It will be at least a little better if I don't have to be so near her. I feel that she's been able to ignore me the way she has because she feels that she's in control. And, for the most, she's right. Although I can't read her thoughts, I feel that while I may have more insight on the situation in general, she is the one pulling the strings. All she has to do is give me a suggestive look in the hallways and instantly I'm thrown into an Etruscan orgy of optimism, pessimism, anxiety, and longing. I don't think she's that manipulative, because I think that the male-based idea of every woman being "Ruby Tuesday" is naive and ignorant, but I know that technically, she has the power to do that to me. It seems she hasn't lost anything, really. As long as I sit next to her, I'd guess that she knows I'm still holding on to something, and as long as she knows I'll always be waiting, she doesn't feel the need to think about me. If I move, it might make her think about what we had. If anything, it will make me feel better, and that's what's important. I have nowhere to go but up. I waited, I tried to be patient, but it seems all I'm going to get out of sitting next to her is an incredible amount of pain, so I really should move away. I forgive her for acting the way she is. I don't think she's intentionally trying to hurt me. Perhaps there's a little spite involved, but I don't think she's fully aware of the hurt she inflicts on me. It seems like she's putting enough effort into trying to block me out of her memory to even begin to think about what it's doing to me. She may well be as confused as I am. The only difference is that I've faced my feelings, while it seems that she's refusing to acknowledge the existence of hers. At first, when I felt she was somehow trying to ignore her feelings, I felt compelled to try to do something about it. I wanted to grab her and scream, "what are you so afraid of?" I wanted to write her some letter that would be dripping with so much feeling and care that it would force her to think about it. I wanted to grab her and kiss her to remind her about what we had. I wanted to do anything that would loosen the padlock she's used to lock up whatever she's feeling. Thankfully, I never did any of those things. I don't know how women operate, and maybe it's just because I've read too many breakup cliches recently, but I know that if I were to do any of those things, she would just run further away. I think there may be something inside of her, despite being buried in apparent anger all these months, but I know there's nothing I can do that will force her to acknowledge them. It's something she'll have to do on her own. Whether she decides to acknowledge them while I'm still in the picture or not is up to time. The thing is, I think I may love her. Of course, leave it to the teenager experiencing his first loss to say that what he had was somehow different from all the other teenagers experiencing their first losses, but I really do believe it, kind of. I'm rather skeptical to use that word, because while this is my first relationship loss, I am no stranger to unrequited puppy love. I've had a couple of crushes that have gone on too long. In each of those I've used the word "love," because as any hopeless teenage boy will tell you, it's perfectly realistic to love someone who your only contact with was holding a door open for them in the 9th grade. I never used the word 'love' in our "Something," because, well, I didn't have very good experiences with using that word in the past. However, all this time has gone by, and now I think what we had may have been love, even if it was only a slight degree of it. As one Wilco song goes, "distance has the way of making love understandable." It's frustrating that she refuses to admit her feelings, or admit that what we had was pretty damn nice, but I think that someday she may fess up to it. After all, one can't run from something forever. As I'm typing this deliriously lengthy post, I realize that I've told myself most of these same things before. I know I've told myself that she's refusing to acknowledge something and I can't do anything about it, but I don't think I've ever believed my own words. I've always told myself there must be SOMETHING I can do--after all, I was involved in the relationship too, right? But I now know that the answer doesn't lie in me waiting around for her to think about it. I have to move away. I think if I were to wait the way I have been forever, she would never think about it. I can't just stand outside with my foot still caught in the door. I need to go home. You'd think that the world is a miserable enough place for a person to find a healthy amount of negative, neurotic, misanthropic, self-conscious, insecure, attractive love interests, but it's harder then you might think. Of course, there's much more to what we had then positive negativity and optimistic pessimism, but you get the idea. I have never met a person I clicked with better then her, and if we were friends, I know she would be my best one. I'm a teenager, so I'm prone to be sarcastic, angst-ridden, and morose. I have never been happier in my life then in those two brief weeks I spent with her. It was as if a lifetime of angst, letdown, and insecurity was just released, and for once I felt caring, compassionate, and content. I never felt uncomfortable or nervous. It was just really, really good, and I could have never asked for more. I remember one Saturday when we had spent the entire day in the city, and as we waited for the train at Grand Central she put her head into my chest and said, "I'm content." Not to sound sappy or obnoxiously nostalgic, but it was nicest, sweetest thing a person has ever said to me. Either it was because I lead a generally mediocre existence that's void of good news, or maybe because I knew that I was content too, and didn't have care about anything else for that moment. Naturally, it wasn't all profoundly romantic as I just made it out to seem, but it was really good. It was the best time in my life; number one, hands down. I love her, a lot. If I didn't love her then, I know I would have come to love her had we gone on. I love her enough to leave her, I guess. She needs to think, too, and that won't happen unless I move away. I won't be bitter or hold a grudge, because I know what we had was really good, and despite the way she's been acting towards me now, I'll always remember her first and foremost as she was then. I think this post may have been even longer then the other one I posted. Anyone who takes the time to read this one deserves an even bigger thanks. Goodbye all. Your advice was invaluable.

I suppose that maybe, because of the fact that it was the first female to find me physically attactive, I'm being rather clingy. However, I don't think I'm making myself clear when I say that it was really good. I don't even get along with my best childhood friends as well as I did with her. I can't just leave. It's incredibly rare to find someone who's as self-conscious, insecure, misanthropic, neurotic, and negative as you are. Someone who doesn't just share your interests, but a similar worldview. I'm not a "hot commodity" in my school, and I'm not interested in other people. Regardless of the current situation, it was really great when we were on better terms. I don't think I can just get what I had with her with just any other girl.

Just to straighten something up. We're both not terribly "popular" people. We have our tiny little cliques, and that's it. I guess it was another way we related. And also, she didn't call me "scrawny," I called myself scrawny. I have a rather self-depracating sense of humor.

About two and a half months ago, I broke up with my ex. We had lasted two weeks. I know all you savvy veterans of the dating game are probably thinking, "two weeks? sorry, that's really not enough time for any strong feelings to develop." I'm sure this thought will be driven even further into your skulls when I say she was my first. However, I was her first, too, aside from a guy she made out with a couple of times last year. We're both young, only seventeen. I had habored a rather large crush for her over the summer. I had always thought she was pretty attractive, but what really got to me was the way she wrote. I never like giving credit to people my age for being good writers, as I am a rather insecure person, but for some reason I always had a great deal of respect and admiration for her works, even before I liked her. Plus, we both read On the Road for our English term papers, so I suppose it was enough for me to feel some heavy butterflies. Anyway, the school year started and we were in the same creative writing class. When she found out I read On the Road, I guess we become slightly friendly. On the second week of school, I called her for the creative writing homework and hung up four hours later. I had never been able to relate with someone so well. Anyway, to make a long story slightly less long, we started going out (though, being the "alternative" young teens that we are, we never called it that). I had never gotten along so well with anyone before. I was incredibly comfortable in the relationship, and she was, too. I never had to lie, or make excuses for myself. I never had to be ashamed or self-conscious of things because she had the same anxieties and embarrassments...they kind of nullified each other. Even now, when this huge desert of silence separates us, I still can't find anyone who I can relate to as well. So, the second week came and started out fine. However, in the middle of the week a long phone call prevented her from doing her English assignment. She seemed a little nicked about it the next day, but I thought nothing of it. Then, I went to her house on that Thursday. She was very reluctant to have me go over, despite it was her who suggested the idea on the previous Saturday. She said she couldn't kiss, because of dental work, but being that I liked her company so, I insisted on tagging along. Of course, young teenagers have hormones, and we did eventually start kissing. Then there was a point where I slid my hand down somewhere. She kept saying "you don't have to do this," but I did anyway. Trust me, I'm not some macho-hooligan who was eager to run his mouth off to his buddies about getting to 'third.' I wanted to do it because I cared about her, and I suppose I wanted to, in the most basic terms, "make her feel good." So, she let me do my thing for awhile. I can't say I was particularly good at navigating that area, as I do not have any experience in that department, really. She had done the same thing to me the previous week, and she wasn't too good at it either, just so you know. However, a point came when she abruptly said, "no, no. Stop, now," sat up on her bed, and moved away. I tried to hug her several minutes later, and she said, "don't faun over me." Later that day, when she dropped me off, I went to kiss her, but she didn't kiss back. She ditched our plans for that Saturday, blaming college essays, and come the next Monday, we broke up. She sat me down and told me a million things. "This year was not a good year to get to know me," she said. "I really have to do well." "I've never been in this kind of relationship (she had never described us as a relationship before)." "I really enjoy talking to you, but I can't deal with six hour phone calls every night." And an assortment of other frantic reasons. We're both neurotic, and I know the emphasis she placed on getting into a good school, so it was an understandable reason. However, at the time, I wasn't able to relate and was absolutely crushed. The weeks that followed were miserable ones. She continued to say hello in the halls, and continued to sit next to me in creative writing, but conversation was minimal. She didn't seek it out. Then one day she stopped saying hello in the halls, at least when other people were around. I meanwhile, was furious (internally of course). I thought that because she seemed to be friendly only when no one was around, it was "pity greeting" and I wanted no part of it. Additionally, I couldn't really understand why she had left. Of course, I had heard what she said. I just couldn't relate to it. So, I called her, and asked why she left, again. I said I thought that "our tank still had gas," and if there was any chance of getting together in the near future. At first she said, "I don't know," but as I persisted she rather irately snapped, "no. never. not until the day I die. I just want to get my point accross." When the conversation ended, I asked her, "so, you just weren't ready for a relationship," and she responded, rather assuredly, "yes." Now, you would think by now I would get the picture. She wasn't ready for a relationship, she said so. However, leave it to me to still not listen. A week went by, and anger just began to build up inside of me. I didn't feel she had given me a straightforward reason. I wanted something simple, and something I could relate to. I didn't get the barrage of reasons she had told me, I didn't want to get them. So, at the end of the week, I exploded. I asked if I could talk to her and then rather abrasively started asking why she left me. She was upset. She started saying things like, "I just like people and then I don't," and "You obviously must've thought it was a LOT better then I did." I asked her if it was because I fingered her that day, and she said no. I demanded to know why she had started saying "hi" in the hall and then just stopped all of a sudden. All she could say was, "I don't know." Eventually she sped off in a bit of a huff, to say the least. Earlier that day, she had written, "must stop being a slut" in French on her binder. I'm glad my ignorant self didn't remember to bring that up, because I don't think it would have been very constructive. I regret being such a jerk immensely, but I cannot blame myself for acting that way at the time. I was confused, lost, and hurt. She hadn't treated me terribly well in the weeks following the breakup, and I couldn't understand how this was happening with the person who I get/got along with so incredibly well. Anyway, Monday came, and it wasn't good. She still sat next to me, but she was not in a good mood. She read a poem I wrote, which I must say was pretty damn good, and gave it constructive criticism minus the "constructive." After class, I tried to apologize, but she was furious. "I think what you did was really obnoxious and offensive and uncalled for," and for added injury spat, "I don't want you going all [girl who I sent a love letter to in the 9th grade] on me." We haven't spoken since. She's still sat next to me in creative writing since then. Of course, she doesn't speak to me or so much as look in my direction, but she still sits. In the first few weeks following the argument, she would speed up when she saw me in the halls, walk in a different direction, or cut off into a corner. Then she began ignoring me. I no longer existed. All she did in creative writing was laugh it up with everyone who wasn't me. I was really crushed. Two months went by. I began to miss her company tremendously, and not just the physical aspect. Every so often something would happen to me that I knew she would have appreciated hearing, or I might hear a song I knew she would get a kick out of. I wanted to be on speaking terms again. Of course, I care about her so much, and I know that several months earlier, I hated just talking to her for three minutes a day in some shallow banter, but now I missed it more then anything. Recently, I've found myself changing from all of my old friends, and she personified the type of person the "new me" wanted to be around. I went up to her one day in late November and asked if she thought I was angry at her. Rather obnoxiously, she shook her head to indicate, "no, of course not, not at all." Then, I said, "because you know, this ignoring thing is getting kind of old." She walked away from me as I said this. She walked away from me in the middle of my sentence. I realized earlier this month about the wrongs I had done to her. Prior to that, I thought I was completely innocent, that some unknown force of evil was thrusting itself on me, and it was the only way to explain my miserable position. I realized that I think she had said the real reasons the first time, and though she wasn't exactly clear, she had told me nonetheless. I had been a complete idiot. I had somehow thought that because I'm scrawny and listen to indie rock bands that I'm too "sensitive" to stoop to the stereotypes of my sex. I didn't listen. All I did was badger. How often can you tell someone the reasons for something until you just get fed up explaining? I felt horrible for what I did. I was such an asinine fool. The following day I wrote her a note that said, "I thought that because I'm relatively scrawny in build and listen to indie rock bands that I'm somehow too intellectual to stoop to the stereotypes of my sex. I didn't listen to what you had to say. I just obnoxiously badgered you. I want you to know that I'm genuinely sorry, and that I apologize, even if it is rather late." She turned to me, and said, "don't worry, it's not an issue." We had been watching a movie in class at the time, and when it was over, she still didn't say a word. In fact, she turned in her chair to the opposite side of the room. She started a conversation up with the first person to come into class (an assembly had separated half of the class). I joined in on this conversation, and it became more like us each individually talking to the same person. She refused to acknowledge me. I admit. I am one naive bastard. I still care deeply for this girl, even if she is treating me rather poorly. I'm so frustrated with her. Something is clearly bothering her. If she was over it, I don't think she'd feel compelled to not talk to me when I apologized. I hate being ignored in the hallways, or if we manage to bump into each other alone, I hate watching her look straight down at her feet until I pass by before she looks up again. I hate living in Ignoreland, because it feels incredibly unnatural, not to mention painful. I can't believe this is the same person who I used to be able to talk so freely and effortlessly with (mind you, I am not very talkative). I hate how she acts as if I simply don't exist, or that "we" simply didn't happen. I don't know what to do. I still care about her so much, but she refuses to speak to me. It's been so long, too. I miss talking to her. I hate the idea that she views me as the enemy. I know I can't do anything. I can't just scream at her. I feel there's a great sense of irresolution, but how can I possibly hope any resolution to come if she doesn't even look at me, or speak to me. I'm tired of everything I say and do being held against me. I don't know what I should feel, how I should act, or what I should do, if anything. I really care about her, perhaps more then I should, but I just know what we had was so good until it suddenly and abruptly ended. If anyone out there has any advice or insight, please offer some. I feel so incredibly lost and alone. Am I being really naive to think that there was some spirit in what we had, even if it was two weeks? Oh, and when we were together, we leant each other books. She, nor I have returned them. I try not to make a big deal out of it, as it's probably more due to awkwardness then "oh, I still care!" but it's something that always gets to me. Well, thanks. Anyone who has taken the time to read something this deliriously long deserves a huge pat on the back.