Tears, Squirrels, and Flames

The Facts:

I had my first public improv performance today. It was awful. There’s this guy who I love (platonically) and he says he loves me, but when I say I love him, I truly mean I love him, and I think he means it the way a 6 year old says s/he loves ice cream. I was supposed to meet up with him before class, but then he bailed. The night before, he texted me and told me he would be there at 12:45, so I showed up early (I otherwise didn’t need to be there until 1:30) and waited. He showed up after the performance began.

In the time that I was walking around by myself when I should have been walking with him, I saw squirrels all over the place; on the ground, in the trees, in the Pergola, everywhere. I followed one and just stared at it for a few moments. It was the same color as one of my rabbits was. This rabbit was a chinchilla mini rex, and she died two days ago. I’m usually okay, but then I see squirrels, and I remember her. She was the same shade of gray, had the same eyes, and the same white underside. I’m crying now just as I’m writing this.

I wrote my paper on how I thought the performance went a little bit ago. I might have been too harsh on myself, but I wouldn’t know for sure because my friend won’t talk to me to let me know how he thought it went. My paper was briefly interrupted to watch a rocket launch.  A rocket carrying supplies for the International Space Station was launched two hours ago. I could see the bright orange flames of the rocket from my house until it reached approximately 50 degrees on the horizon, at which point the first stage engine cut off.

Stream of Consciousness:

Inviting conservative Catholic homeschool families to a college improv performance was a bad idea. Loving that guy platonically was so much easier back when he was planning on becoming a priest. I know we could never be a couple though, we want different things from a relationship, and the two of us together just wouldn’t be healthy. He can’t even be consistent in plans over the course of a few hours. I just can’t believe I thought today would be any different from usual. It’s a  good thing I told him to be there at 1:40 when the room was unlocked, and not 2:00 when the performance began.

I still can’t believe that in addition to him bailing on me for walking around campus beforehand, no one from my class was available to hang out. I saw one guy from my class at the Pergola, but he said he just wanted to head back to his dorm. At least the campus is painted by nature in such amazing colors this time of year. I hope my other rabbit is doing okay; rabbits can literally die of loneliness. I hope she’s not a darker shade of depression blue than I am. The color blue is too awesome to be associated with depression, so normally I would say depression gray, but the deceased was gray. Even typing the word gray the two times in this paragraph has my eyes watering again.

Maybe I should have one of my friends from class look over my midterm paper. I don’t want them to think of me as weird though if they don’t like my writing style, how harsh I am on myself, what I liked about the show, etc.; they just started to like me. I wonder if that guy who loves me like a 6 year old loves pizza watched the rocket launch tonight. He launched rockets for fun in a 4-H club with me. The last time a rocket was launched from Wallops Island, I stood outside for two hours waiting only to watch it explode on a video on my mom’s iPad. I haven’t seen a practical rocket launch in years, and had completely forgotten how visible they are. Perhaps I should turn the computer off and get back to work, but I have more to say.

I love my friends who I invited to the performance, I really do. Loving them in of itself may be the real bad idea though, it makes a person more vulnerable. I still wonder why he wanted to become a priest, and why one day he just stopped. It’s not like he was in some amazing life changing relationship. Why did I ever expect he could be consistent in anything? He’s always late, and in the end just another selfish boy. What would he have thought if he saw my classmates and I warming up in the shop before the show?

This guy didn’t even stick around after the show. I didn’t see him beforehand, and I didn’t see him afterwards. He probably would have split the poles with me at the Pergola if he did walk around with me (at my college, there’s a superstition that if two or more people are walking around and walk on opposite sides of the poles holding up the Pergola’s ceiling (splitting the poles) they won’t be friends after graduation). My living rabbit is a beautiful mix of browns, with just the slightest hint of some gray fur; a color pattern known as castor. My best friend stops knowing the meaning of okay when he falls into depression, and he scares me. I am blue; loyal, sad, intelligent, confident and sincere. What is it like to be normal? Avoiding the word gray to avoid tears certainly is not.

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