It's 11:11 and I'm wishing for.... I don't know what. It was just on my brain, I had a clever hook to start this story and now I've gone and lost it. Probably because I google hangouts called my girlfriend with the intention of reading her a story so she could get to bed. Ah, I got it. It's less poetic, but now it's 11:14 and I'm wishing for orange juice. I could go to the fridge and get some, but for that I'd have to get up, push the clothes blocking my door aside, actually go to the kitchen, and open my refrigerator, which of course has something rotten in it so it smells horrendous. It's probably the chocolate milk that expired three months ago that no one has dared to touch.
The problem with getting the orange juice is that last night when I got it I couldn't sleep for hours. Maybe something in it was keeping me awake, or maybe it was that I haven't taken my pills for a week and a half. I mean, I'm estimating, but, whatever, probably a week and a half. There's nothing else to drink except water, and although that sounded atrocious at first, now sounds pretty appealing. I wish I could drive so I could go to Freedom, the pitifully downtrodden, town hot-spot, gas station, and get something better to drink. Ah yes, Freedom, the gas station where I climbed a fence to get into a dumpster to search for my at-the-time crush's at-the-time girlfriend after she ditched us when we went inside to get her an iced tea. I used to think I dumpster-dived so that she would think I was sweet, but ever since she's entered my life my sense of self-worth has climbed, and I realized I actually did it because my love was having a panic attack, and I would do anything to help her... Even if that meant going on a man hunt to save the kid that despised me.
Even though I didn't discover her in that dumpster, I have discovered that this...commentary....novella...? Oh well, whatever it is, is going to go on lots of tangents and I haven't the foggiest on how to keep it linear. Anyways, her girlfriend wasn't in the dumpster, nor was she in the woods, if it can even be considered a woods, surrounding the gas station. As we drove down the road, Kai crying behind the steering wheel, me rubbing her back and telling her it would be alright, we found Maddie, halfway back home, walking in the road casually, like nothing happened and she hadn't ditched two mentally unstable kids at a gas station. "What? I texted you and told you I was going for a walk." Bad choice Maddie. A fight emerged and concluded, after a series of shouts, by Maddie defeatedly getting into the backseat and Kai driving us back to the house where we were supposed to be spending the night.
Awkward beat awkward, and we all got on Maddie's bed to watch Love, Actually - a movie that nobody wanted to watch except Kai. She was outnumbered by corporeal forms, but Maddie and I's love for her took over and we, albeit grumpily, watched one of her favorite movies. Take that Percy Jackson, turns out Logan Lerman can play accurate parts. Now, Love Actually, being the type of movie that my mom would watch with a glass of pinot noir on a saturday night under expensive blankets while cuddling with my dog, naturally had a tacky sex scene where a boy, coming to terms with his new found sexuality and emotional feelings for a girl, fuck in a closet. (Funny, because for the many first few years of my life, I lived inside the closet, afraid of fucking)
The girl in the scene made a particular face, a face that I guess one could assume was filled with lust and love and longing that was suppressed for a while, and I, the brilliant freshman I was, commented on how Kai made that face "ALL THE TIME". Little did I know, this spiked a large fight between them later. But, back to the point, wait, there is no point to this.
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My biggest fear in life right now is losing Kai. She is my everything, and not in some tacky Hallmark card way, but her existence is actually directly linked to my beating heart, whether through stardust, inevitably and naturally, or sawdust, constructed yet preciously fragile, I know I need her.
She calls me the love of her life, and I call her mine. But what if we aren't? She's a junior in high school in a town of 1,000 and has a body that matches her brain, perfect. Anyone would be the luckiest person both alive and dead to get the chance to love her, let alone her loving them back. What if I'm only her momentary love of her life. Her life is only how far it's existed thusfar. I could be the love of her life now, but in thirty five years when she's met more amazing people, when she's evolved and learned to hate my quirks she loves now, when will she meet the true love of her life? A soccer player who is also in the Peace Corps, socially woke and smart and sweet? Someone who gets her on every level and strives to be the best for her? God, I try my hardest every day to be the best possible person I can be for her, I don't think I could stand if she ever left me.
And I know, just as she's a junior, I'm a sophomore, with a complete life ahead of me, and maybe I have soulmates out there too that aren't her. But I believe so much that she's the right person for me that I will disregard every other person who even stands to pose a slight "threat" to her. The truth is, nobody is a threat to her, I'm completely absorbed by her. I don't love her based on things like her wit and charm and beauty and intellect (etc.), even though I absolutely do love those things about her, I love her based on a deep gut knowledge that we're from the same star, or whatever other metaphor needed to grasp that my existence is directly linked to hers. The essence of her is the breath in my lungs. And those same lungs are the ones that inhale and exhale for her.
And I think the thing is, my lungs actually pump oxygen to my blood for me. Not in the sense that they're in my body and giving the fuel to my blood, but that, since I met her I've found reasons to live for myself. I don't have to exist on the principle that she's existing. I can keep living because she's found things in me that make it worthwhile to live.
I want her to be as happy as she can possibly be, the question is, am I selfless enough to let her happiness be with someone other than me? The answer is yes, and I think that's the problem. I would step aside if it meant she would be happy, and I'm petrified that some day she might want me to.
I don't know why I'm up at 12:30 writing about my hypothetical woes. Or why I'm crying into my keyboard about them. All I know is that I need Kai, forever.
I'm going to come back now with an apology for my angst and dramatization, I took one of my moms special pills earlier that I had hoped would calm my state of mania and it turned out to be shit that took my mania energy and shoved it into my depression. Have you ever felt depressed but with a core buzzing energy that means you can fuel your desolation into something other than a loss of consciousness? It kinda sucks.
