I would call Nell on the phone frequently – at least once or twice a week, maybe more sometimes. We had short chats as well as conversations that would last hours. But she had a boyfriend who lived in another state, and also very clearly stated repeatedly she would never be with me… ever. I was incredibly distraught, hearing this from her over and over again. I clung to a small hope that maybe I could change her mind. Nothing else mattered, and I struggled to accept Nell’s lack of feelings for me. I fell more and more into a depression.
Despite that, I still loved talking to her. When she answered her phone I would feel incredibly happy hearing her voice, and after we hung up I would continue smiling like a giddy schoolboy.
Simply being on the phone challenged me to overcome my selective mutism little by little, and it just felt really good to have a friend. I owed a lot to those conversations. I learned so much about life, about who I was, and about the world. It was deeply spiritual in a way, not all because of what she said, but also how it made me question and reevaluate everything I ever thought or believed, forcing me to be truly honest with myself.
I also wrote her notes a couple times a week. On a piece of notebook paper I’d write to her, fold it up into a palm-sized rectangle, and then put the date on the outside of it. I’d pass it to her in the hallways surreptitiously; in school, we didn’t interact as much as we did on calls. Mostly I wrote about my feelings for her – sometimes goofy and fun, sometimes melodramatic and over-the-top. Also, I’d write about my feelings toward my parents, music, and general things that happened throughout the day. It was incredibly therapeutic, giving me an outlet to practice expressing myself.
There was a traditional Valentines day gimmick throughout the school. You would fill out a survey with a bunch of seemingly nonsensical questions like “What animal would you rather be: a cow, a dolphin, a giraffe, or a rhino?” All the questions were this sort of weird multiple choice with no right answer. And then they would match you up with other people whose answers were most similar to yours. My senior year, I answered my survey guessing at the answers she would pick.
…And we ended up being each other’s top match.
I had a pretty good idea of the sort of answers she’d pick. I admired Nell so much that I’d often try to be like her and try to copy her mindset. It sounds creepy. Probably is. I wasn’t putting on makeup and carrying a purse or anything like that. But it was the traits that she had that attracted me so much and I wanted for myself – honesty, playfulness, happiness, a deep-rooted sense of self, unflinching confidence, a cheerful yet realistic outlook on life, and just a general glow about her that brings back such nice feelings even writing about it now.
I still try to stay true to those traits.
January 25, 2008
I was a wreck yesterday, but a call from Nell cheered me up a bunch. She said I was number one on her data match form last year, and it made me jump! The most ironic thing I’ve ever heard. But it doesn’t mean anything since I manipulated the answers.
She read me all the notes I’ve sent her, and it shed some light on my feelings for her. It seems like another typical high school crush, filled with cheap cliches and love songs. It is just a passing infartuation.
Women will come and go, and I should treat them like objects – nothing more than outlets for my sexual desires and dirty, lustful fantasies. True love is now just a childhood fantasy just like witches, wizards, and peace. How naive I have been my whole life as hard as I’ve tried not to be. Emotions are both shackles and wings. My shackles and wings.
Note: I do NOT treat women as objects! I was looking for alternate views on life, as the one I had at the time didn’t seem to be working. I watched a James Bond film that made me think that maybe adopting a cold, emotionless view of the world was how I could avoid the pain of being hurt by others. I desperately searched around for ways to come to grips with the reality of how Nell viewed me, and to find a way to escape the daily torture of my own obsessive mind.