I went to bed sad, I woke up sad and in the perverse way one pokes and jabs at a wound I was compelled to make myself sadder (Why? Why do I listen to music that reminds me of even sadder times, read emails from sad times, look at sad photos when by any reasonable standard I'm already sufficiently sad?). I was packing the last of the books, and one of the strays was the journal John writes in every year on his birthday.
I don't know if this was pure denial and self-justification on my part or a sincere case of day-after stupids and bad judgment, but because John has read parts of his journals out loud to me before, I didn't think he would care if I flipped through it. In my mind, at the time, it was on par with looking through his photo album, which I wouldn't assume I'd require permission for. But duh: If he's reading to me he's editing out anything he wouldn't want me to read because it's private and/or would bother me.
My only defense/evidence that I didn't think I was doing anything particularly sneaky is that I told him about about it right afterward ... and duh: he didn't like it. So now I've got guilt (my very least favorite feeling, much worse than sad) on top of the sadness. I think I said here a couple of weeks ago in the context of EQ that I don't often feel guilt or remorse. It's not because I'm not capable of it, which I may have unintentionally implied; it's because I try really hard not to do stuff I know is wrong, since doing those things makes me feel awful whether or not there are hard repercussions.
I have a frequent recurring dream in which "everyone hates me." That sounds so childish I know, but it's really upsetting. Usually, for whatever reason, the cast of characters is my high school friends, centering around my best friend from ages 12 to 18 or so, Marisa Lewels, who now lives in LA. I'm pretty sure she doesn't actually hate me, but in my dreams, she almost always does. And everyone else tends to agree. In the dreams I feel mixed guilt and defensiveness; I'm never sure if I've actually done something wrong or if it's all just a big misunderstanding and/or conspiracy.
Today I kind of feel like everyone hates me. Recording my self-pity in this public forum makes me feel sort of ironic toward it, and therefore less shitty, so please, dear readers, indulge me.
This is Chris Starkey.
I haven't seen him in a long time and I miss him lots. He texted on Friday to say he is coming to Boston soon, which makes me happy, somewhere under the sadness. Because I get to see him, and because he doesn't hate me.