Get me Out of My Mind (Brendon Urie)

27. High Hopes

It amazes me that Brendon's friends (yes, the 'Friendons' pun got old, even in my own opinion,) have apparently forgiven me. Because... I acted like a complete idiot. Actually, idiot's probably too nice. I acted like a complete imbecile in front of them and probably scarred them psychologically for life.

"No, you didn't. Seriously. They're all cool with you," Brendon snorts when I tell him that. It's the next day, Sunday now, and we're in his apartment eating club sandwiches. One of the few food items that I myself actually know how to make- mostly because it's just stacking things on bread, and then dumping chips on the side. Therefore, it is one of the few foods that falls in the category of something I can't destroy horribly, and so I made some for Brendon and I.

"I don't believe that," I say firmly, around a mouthful of bread and chicken. "I acted like a... well, like a me."

Brendon's eyes merely do that thing where they glitter with amusement. As in they actually do glitter.

"There's not a problem with acting like yourself. Only one of you, after all."

He can say that again. There only is one of me, thank God. It would be terrifying if there were multiple Erins running around the earth screaming their heads off and eating all the food.

The strange thing is, though, there's a part of me that's inclined to believe Brendon when he says that his friends don't alll loathe and despise me. Though I highly doubt any of them were, uh, impressed by my little outburst, when I went back to the bar they were surprisingly friendly. I didn't even get that many strange and disgusted looks from them, like I thought I would- and lo and behold, rotten tomatoes were not thrown in the end. Who'd've thought?

Even Zack, who I got a rather... ahem... unusual vibe from didn't end the evening by putting me in a chokehold and snapping my neck, or at least threatening to. Hmm. Am I just assuming that because he's a big guy and has a sort-of-wrestler-y vibe to him, he goes around thinking about snapping people in half easily? Maybe. And maybe that is a bit of an unfair assumption to make. But still.

Sarah didn't even act as though she wanted to murder me as that evening ended. In fact, she committed an utterly bizarre act and hugged me- lo and behold, she even smelled delicious (vaguely like cinnamon scrolls, which is... well, it's far from disagreeable.)- something that I can only take to mean she was either feeling me up in some convoluted plan to harvest my kidneys, or that she actually liked me.

Um. What.

You see, people do not actually like me. Well... some do, but those few clearly have issues. (I'm looking at you two especially, Brendon and Claire.). People should not actually like me, because I do not see myself as the person who people like- more as the person who lurks in corners so that people can compare themselves to me and feel better about their so-called flaws because compared to me, they are perfect.

But Brendon is claiming that his friends actually liked me. He even admits that they 'found you a little weird,' ("Me? Weird?" I mock-objected as I took a bite out of the chicken-gummi-bear-potato-chip-sandwich I had concocted myself from the remains of my club sandwich and a package of candy that I may or may not have swiped from work.) but since they are allegedly all weird themselves, they liked that about me.

I'm almost inclined to believe him there... almost.

--

Time is a strange thing. Sometimes it feels like... oh, say, eight months or so since I met Brendon's friends at the bar. Since, ah, the incident in which I may or may not have acted like I was having a nervous breakdown in front of Sarah. (Beautiful, perfect Sarah, whom I totally have not had any sexually-confusing fantasies about. At all. Um.) And I think I know why it feels like it has been longer; whenever you're waiting for something to happen, time immediately decides, like the tickhead (get it? Tickhead because it's time and time... ticks... and it's also a dickhead... so... um... okay, that was not as witty as I initially thought, was it? Ah, crap. I shall shut my metaphorical mouth now.) it is, to go as slowly as it possibly can. Aka, do its impression of me whenever we were forced to run in gym class. And right now, well... I am waiting for something that is extremely important and childishly exciting.