Confusion and Confession

However, T. was not the reason for the rain in my head – he only provided the clouds. The reasons to make the water drops fall out of the clouds and roll down on my face is my best friend R. Or the one I used to call my best friend until a couple days ago.

The story is told quickly. Jealousy has overtaken her mind. This is what makes this fight so difficult. Her text came out of nowhere, leading to an immediate turn down with T. who I was with that moment, and an immediate break out of tears on my face, but the appellation as backstabber stabbed right through my mental stability.

I swear I never tried to take away her spot in the group, I swear I never meant to cut her out or leave her alone and I am sure not the reason she ended up in the hospital that one night after a party. The thing is – I can’t even cry about it because I don’t know how to fix it. I could cry, if I knew things would be alright soon, and the momentary drama will vanish. But I have no idea how to fix this. So all I feel is emptiness. She is my best friend. And I don’t know how I make her understand that I never intended to do anything to hurt her. But the jealousy, I cannot end. I am not going to stop living my life just because she doesn’t like the way I live it. It’s my life after all. I am lost. But I hope, with the announced sunshine in the paper, I will brighten up a little.

Although at the moment, I fear the thunderstorm coming in: because on Saturday night, all my will either be resolved or my makeup will dissolve itself. Because on Saturday night, we will all meet up at the big party of the year.

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Good news, bad news, better news

Against all social norms, I am going to start with writing about the good news. Even more, I’ll sandwich the bad news between the good news and the better news, so they will only be as valuable as a slice of salami between the firm foundation of bread – and that’s how you cut out negativity in your life – you just transform it to sandwiches.

Enough of the food talk, now we are switching to moon walk. Not in the Michael – Jackson – ishy – way, more like in walking along the riverside on a warm spring night, feeling the booze in your stomach mix up with the booze of your heart, beating as if you were running a 5k. The drinks were running too, not a 5k, but down our throats, making the last bits of pieces of uncomfortableness disappear. Even more so, when we arrived on the roof of his flat and L. stood up, jumped on a lug and told me to come along – he would show me the most beautiful spot in the city. We were laying on our backs and watching the stars – although you could hardly see them – thanks pollution. However, that did not destroy the magic that was created that night over the big dipper.

Well now, let’s move on to the bad news. The destroying, delusionating, dreary, vapid truth. It was the last day before spring break – and while the dorks were sitting and staring, we were drinking and daring to expose our drunk selves to the sober half of the class. The walk on the river was accompanied by my fellow students, making sure that there was enough room for Jesus between L. and me. It got even worse, when inĀ  a round of truth or truth – mostly because we were too lazy to actually fulfill dares – he got asked who he’d do it with from our school. The fact that he didn’t say my name is obvious. But is it blatant cover-up to keep our secret hidden in front of our class? Or is my mind creating a secret that only consists of hot airsequences of nothing? Or maybe am I right, and the hot airsequences do contain a slight bit of love? Or is it the cursory joy of fleeting summernights that makes us stumble? At least the stars watching was just between him, me, and the universe.

Now let’s move on to the completely unrelated but remarkable better news: I reached a new level of spontaneity. Last Tuesday, my friend and I celebrated the beginning of spring with a cold beer on a hot afternoon at the riverside. Over our excitement, our love for travel slowly arose – and: We are flying to London, GB tomorrow. The surprise call to my parents was rather strange: “Hey mom, are you up for a talk? … Mmhhm … Yeah, um I have a question … Well, do you think … Yeah, we would like to travel to London in, wait let’s count, like 4 days, alright?”

But now it’s less than 12 hours until I will get the chance to discover a new city and with it a new perspective on the world. The only not so exciting thing is that I now officially have less than three hours of sleep left.

Therefore, goodnight.