the story that has taken too long

It's unbelievable, how fast things change. All it took was a shift--a huge shift maybe, one that wrecked the foundations and tossed them to the wind. Or maybe a rope snapping me back to sad reality after my half-dreamed sojourn during the last four years of my life. But it was a simple transplantation, into a new environment. And everything scattered. Suddenly, I'm falling faster than I can build. Things I built dams against while I was in the haven of secondary school, so sadly deljded into believing that was the perigee of my life. Well, I shifted away. Dove forward fully certain that it could be no deeper, no colder. And the barricade against the torrent has shattered, splinters and stars. I'm caught in the rush sooner than I can even prepare myself for, the rage all the truths I chose to stem when the current was low. There's no way to save myself. I find myself falling too fast into the vague shadow beyond the shelf, a drop steeper than I anticipated. Suddenly I'm drowning. I cannot believe how heavy my heart has grown since the onset of the unofficial school term. Everything hurts. It seems wrong, but like arrows I can't push them away, only wait for them to strike. Future. Something I made a rule to forget. Where will that sustenance come from? What will I fill the hours of my later life with, and for every hour of work, how many hours of living can I sustain? Something I was sure I didn't need to concern myself with. I was certain that as long as I loved what I did and did it well, there was nothing to 'future'. Just another section of 'now', appended and lived as I would live the 'now'. I thought it'd be that easy. It happened, didn't it? The truth of the world struck me, the way it struck my friends four years ago. The same reality I should have feared from the start. And now I wonder, what have I done? Have I sunken too deep to be saved? I'm scared. I'm not sure I can do what I want with what I love, anymore. The false hope shatters and I am left among its shards. A little like the first snow. --- And the things I do. Rejected doubly for one of the three loves of my life, the passion that I wished so hard I could pursue. Inspiration snuffed out by the flood of fear. Future. Did I care? Was that why my mind flowed? Now I'm out of that illusory world, and now the flame has died. I've grown so afraid, thus, of being brought down. I've been praised one too many times for 'talent'. It's warped me. Now I think I'm amazing. Now I think I cannot make mistakes! I'm afraid of falling behind, so afraid that I get chills and cold stomach aches and, recently, whole-body spasms when I see a friend at work at something I always believed myself superior at. Afraid that someone will show themselves to be better. This sense of superiority is just wrong, and I'm certain it is. But it's there, there whether I want it or not. I don't want to feel like I have to be the best. That everyone's out to get me. That everyone's plotting my downfall. I have barely anything to begin with. Why do I believe myself what I seem to: a porcelain queen on a throne of jewels with enemies and a thousand agents seeking to tear her down? I'm a magpie who nests on the most fragile branch. Edgy, paranoid, suspicious. Because all it takes is the weight of another, even another of my own kind, to send my entire flimsy world tumbling through the bushes below. Losing me all my treasures. How does that relate to my new environment? Simply put, there are more people around me waiting to topple my nest now. It's grown worse. The cohort has doubled in size. And so much more is expected of me. Twice as many enemies, twice as much to lose. I'm fading already, and I can feel it. Fading into the grey of normality. Even the fireworks die. The flowers wilt, ready to give way to the bloom of others. Not helped by the fact that I was rejected for art in favour of seven hallowed people whom I'm certain are better than me, but whom I'm afraid will be viewed as dire enemies from now onwards. --- Alright, so life has begun. And I'm already hating Orientation. To cut it very short, I hate feeling forced to make friends. Sure it'll be fun, but letting myself enjoy is letting them dictate. I'm sincerely sorry that it had to be vented on someone. I didn't want to reveal my sadness. But, well, the line was crossed somewhere. The loud noise and sleeplessness night before didn't help. The pressure was too much. I never knew I was so antisocial. But then, I think it's a change that came with my arrival in this new school. --- Guys. Oh, the root of so many problems. Life and fate and biology are cruel. Partly because it forces us to think of the guys as counterparts. Matches. Partners. Partly because our intelligence allows some members of the species to choose to contest this decree. It's no secret I'm interested in guys (and why is this a big deal when almost everyone else seems ready to squeal about favourite movie stars?)(and I would even go so far as to say that I get interested in girls when they're masculine enough). And very volatile, very vulnerable to infatuation. My rules with fictional males don't apply completely to real life. In real life, it's so much easier to snatch my interest. Be at least passable-looking. Chances raised if you look good. Show just a hint, even unintentionally, that you're interested in me. And blam, I blow it out of proportion. I make huge mistakes. Horrible mistakes. It's a wonder I haven't had my heart broken yet. Anyway, guys are part of the reason I've come to hate this Orientation--and the contrived attempts to force us closer together. The fact that not everyone wants to associate with this sort of male that you find so commonly in my OG. The fact that, well, my OG is full of utterly unappealing guys. Unappealing = tall, manly, sporty, smelly, nonchalant and the sad fact is, 70% of guys are like that. And then again, maybe not that. Maybe I'm unable to give in to enjoyment, unable to open up to these guys because...I have my attentions elsewhere. Something crazy happened. Crazy in a good way. I won't admit anything here, but anyone can guess. Things like this tide over pretty quickly. Give it a month or two. But here I am trapped anyway. It makes life so hard. Every success is brilliant. Every fall heartbreaking. Even silence is horrible. I'm real rubbish at handling my actions when they're emotionally driven. Everyone knows that. And this is one of the most inebriating emotions of all. Thus my life is worsened threefold. Guh. --- Friendships. Do you know I'm prone to jealousy? Well, if the previous sections didn't alert you to that fact, here it is again. Do you know how it feels, standing behind the bars of a gate you wrought together with someone else--a gate that was the manifesto of your friendship--a gate that has suddenly turned traitor? Do you know how it feels to stand and watch, helplessly, as your closest friends, the ones you called 'best friends' and whom you know you will never find again, drift into the arms of others? It's how I feel, so often. I'm so sensitive. It hurts. When I see my friends find new friends, be it through separation from me and intermingling with other groups or otherwise, it begins to take root. I try to feel happy for them. I smile a mask for them. I try to befriend them too. But then they begin to share jokes and laugh together the way I thought was sacred to the two of us only, it becomes a thorn. I try not to think about it. But it's an undercurrent that changes the way I act. It began for me early last year, and I've wanted so often to admit how I feel about this. But I can't, because it feels far too wrong. I cannot hurt her, hurt either of them. Part because I don't want to dig myself deeper, push her further away than she's already gone with mistrust. And part because I know it's her choice. So I live without a word. I have lived like this till now. Afraid of the loss, but afraid of my own shadow. Speaking my fear is half the battle won, half the battle lost. I will wish them well if they will leave my harbour, and I will wish the wind for them. I'm still waiting, still afraid. --- If you've gotten here, that means that you've read more than 70% of my most secret sentiments. It took a lot to put it down, so don't misuse. Don't mention. Don't tell me you read. Don't tell anyone. You can know, for all I care. Just don't use it against me. If this changes the way you view me, I'm sorry I never told the truth. It was just too horrible, too embarrassing. I don't know what I risk by taking off my mask. But I think the lie has gone on long enough. A word, and this post vanishes.