Sometimes I think back to the people I’ve slept with in my life… And throw up a little in my mouth. I mean, I know I was on drugs a lot in high school, but goddamn.
Highschool and the summer after highschool, I guess. (Photo in chair taken by David Duong)
Cheaters just came on the TV. It reminds me of when I got out of the hospital in high school and I couldn’t make it through an entire day of school without having a panic attack so I only used to do half-days (I spent the rest of the day at home in my basement watching trashy tv shows)… I fucking hate the way I feel about my high school life. While I am able to talk about,remember, and feel parts of it, other parts I have absolutely no emotional connection to. It is as if it never happened. Like a random dream I had that will emerge randomly, triggered by some show, smell, sound, etc. It scares me that I feel so emotionally distant from those things that I went through. It feels like a physical distance, like it was never me… Does anyone else have a similar experience or feelings? I don’t know if maybe it’s a symptom of PTSD… or what. I just feel really alone when it comes to.these feelings.
So tonight was my brother’s last band concert of the year. He play percussion in the high school band. I played flute, and honestly band was probably one of the most important things in my life at that time. It was a refuge, a way of expressing myself, and a social environment for me. My band teacher was a huge influence in my life and he made it clear to me my senior year that I had made a huge impact on his life as well.
Well tonight I went to say hello to the director after the concert was over. Two other guys from the same class I’d been in were there and they stopped to say hello to him and they got their picture taken. After that was done, the director briefly noticed me, gave me an awkward hug, and just kind of stood there. I complimented the concert and their new auditorium and he just acted like he didn’t have a clue who I was. He pretty much just ended up walking away after I’d said my bit. He never once said my name (I know, maybe it’s silly, but it’s a big deal to me), he barely looked me in the eye, and he had no appearance of wanting to see how I was doing. Granted, I’m sure he was tired and ready to get out of there, but it made me really sad.
I was also around 30 pounds lighter then. Of course, doing marching band and not eating helped.