It's kind of like dementors were just passing through. Like they didn't stick around long enough to engender fear and absolute misery, just long enough to suck all the happiness from me and leave me vaguely blue. I haven't been blue like this for a while. For a while I've just been kind of 'meh,' or worried, or confused, or pensive, or even, sometimes, a little bit happy. Not now, though.
...As I was leaving from dinner this evening I caught sight of someone I was not expecting to see, and whose appearance has left a vague paranoia upon my mind. I do not know whether he and I have ever exchanged words, or whether he even properly knows who I am, but I know who he is well enough, and we have rather significant mutual acquaintances. He used to date Grey, the girl of my dreams.
Since June I've been feeling like I've lost my gravity. Not seriousness gravity, more the kind of gravity that keeps planets in orbit. I'm a planet. I'm not a sun. I need someone to orbit. I'm swayed by the gravity of others. Metaphor. Metaphor.
For a long time I orbited around Leigh. I felt right there, comfortable, knowing that - whatever 'that' might be...I think I knew when I started the sentence, but I forgot. Anyway, I gravitated to him. It was stable. It was all good.
(Just now, during dinner. Sentences in italics but not parentheses represent my unspoken thoughts)
Mom: You seem especially down today.
Mom: You do, though.
Me: I feel no more down than usual. Really, I don't. Although I can see that I've been acting that way. Maybe it's just a weekend thing.
Mom: It seems like more. You are usually down?
Me: A little bit.
Mom: Usually a little bit down... Why is that?
This in itself is not a big deal... I guess what is weird is my reaction to it. Why should I be surprised and unhappy that I noticed a girl? Why indeed?
For the first time in a long, long while, I feel pretty good on a level deeper than mere fleeting enjoyment and present mirth. Sure, I've not been too down recently, but I haven't had this sense that I do now, this sense that my life is actually, fundamentally okay.
So I just got back from my audition for the school play, and I think it went really well. Considering that I've only ever been in a play once before and all. The monologue I used was all about a person lamenting that her life wasn't more like a musical, and I could really relate to that pretty well - even though I can't sing worth a (something worth singing worth?), if I could change one impossible thing about the world, it would be for real life to be like the musicals. Yup, that wins out over world peace.
I had always figured coming out to my parents would be an emotional and tear-filled time, that I would plan for it for days or weeks beforehand, that it wouldn't happen until I had a relatively solid label for my queeritude, or else that one of them would just ask bluntly and outright, giving me no time to prepare, and the emotional and tear-filled scene would follow. I had also figured that something would be fundamentally a little bit different afterward - maybe just a load off my chest, maybe some sort of change in the family atmosphere. But this... Not what I expected at all.
I usually think of him by his first and last name, or sometimes just his last name, but that would make him too traceable, or me too traceable to him, so I'll call him 'Solace' because that's the name he used when we were antagonistic correspondents (pen-enemies). It's short for 'All Solace Everywhere,' which is a very annoying name that sums him up pretty well.
I don't even know what I'm doing here; I just discovered this site today, but it looks like a lot of kids not all that different from me write a lot of stuff here that may be crap or may actually be kind of meaningful, so I'm willing to give it (whatever 'it' is) a shot without worrying too much about clogging up the Internet with my irrelevant musings.