On the Hill

There must have been a few months since I've last blogged.

I don't remember the exact date, although if I were less lazy I could search it up right now. I do remember why though. I stopped blogging because it just didn't feel right anymore, because I spilled my heart into this blog and suddenly there were things I could not say anymore because I could not let Yuma, who read my blog religiously, see those thoughts.

That is the problem with making your blog known to people you know personally. I had thought of starting other blogs on other sites, but they were too much of a hassle, too difficult to remember and too annoying to upkeep. College applications were coming up, papers to write, things to do with my life, and I didn't really need a blog, did I? Lots of people live their lives perfectly fine without one.

I read a few of Tea's last posts and they were nice. I miss the days when we all blogged like that. Julie doesn't blog anymore either. Neither does Gretchen.

Maybe I just miss those days in general.

I don't know if anyone I know will actually read this anymore. That's alright with me. Actually, it's probably better. I am writing this in hopes that Yuma will never read it, not that this will hurt him in particular, not anymore. But I would rather gain some last control over what I think and who I tell that to.

. . .

Yuma said he would be back late, maybe two or three in the morning. I told him I would wait for him. It always frightens me when I wait for someone, because I don't know if they will actually show up or not. I don't think I have ever admitted it on this blog (although I may have, I don't remember now), but I am a periodically insecure person. Yuma would attest to that. I alternate between believe I can do anything and have everyone believe me, and simply pondering over why anyone would care to even look my way.

Lately I've been thinking that I have never deserved Yuma's love. He did love me absolutely, maybe not unconditionally, but as close as you can without sacrificing yourself unreasonably. I never figured out why. Was it the way I looked? (He does have a preference for Asian girls.) Was it my intelligence, at least in terms of math and science? Was it because I talked with him a lot?

What was it exactly?

I remember telling Tea, a few days before or after Yuma first kissed me, that I did not know if I should really pursue this relationship.

Tea said, "Whatever you do, don't go into a relationship then break up and tell him, 'I've never loved you in the first place.' That hurts a lot."

I wasn't ready back then. Ten months and a world of turmoil later, I know how unprepared I was for everything that was about to happen.

And I am losing him now. I am losing Yuma, and I am afraid again. I am afraid of promising him that I will wait for him for the net four years, even though that is the romantic thing to do, because I am afraid that even if I wait these years I will still lose him.

This time, he is the one who says, "I don't love you," and he has every right to say that. I don't even have the consolation of thinking, "Oh, he's just an idiot who's making a big mistake and I'll show him."

Because I am that idiot. I made the mistake.

I don't know how this will turn out. I want to have him back again, I want to live through all those dreams we  said we would share together. I want things back to what they were once again, and I keep on thinking, "I never thought I would want to go back to my high school days again."

Because high school was hell for our relationship, but this, this is even worse.

. . .

On a more cheerful note, Fish Wings, which is what I am calling my college now, has been fine for me. I am taking five classes this year, one of which is only 1.5 hours a week and so is just half a class. I have made friends, both in my dorm and outside, and I have people to hang out with every day if I so chose.

I have been spending a lot of time in the architecture studio, because both Denise and Sam, two of my closer friends here, are in architecture. They have a very busy schedule, not just classes but actual studio work, so I drop by the studio when I'm free and just work there.

Kitty has also promised me that we would go shopping together once a week, although I might have to push off that until later because I still have lots of food in the fridge and no inclination to cook anything. Maybe I should buy more microwavable things though, to tide me over a few more nights.

I will probably be spending more time with Peter too, if he keeps on talking with me. I have already told Yuma and Tea and Reese and everyone I could possibly find who might be interested my freaky connection with Peter (we came from the same places), and considering I'll be joining Fish Wings' FSAE team, which he is also on, I'll probably be seeing him a lot and he'll be talking with me a lot.

And there are other people, like Jessica, who I am going to see a lot because she is in three of my classes. We will be working on our math history homework next Tuesday, and hopefully be as adept at figuring out problems as the ancient Egyptians and Babylonians were. And there is Ng, whose name I absolutely cannot say, and who is, in part, the reason for all of this. I do not know what to call him now.

 . . .

Yuma is back now. He is acting like he is fine now, that he wasn't ever mad at me because of what I've done. I don't know if I should believe him—and I desperately do, I really want to believe all of this is real. But I don't have much evidence to place my hopes on. I did sort of blackmail him, using his words, by using my health. I suppose it is some evidence for his still caring about me, but love and forgiveness are very different things from caring, and although I really hope this is real and I do have all three of them now, I don't know.

I don't know if this is just his way of placating me. If he is actually thinking, "Why do I have to put up with this pathetic, crazy, useless girl?"

I have fallen a long way from grace. But I do know the only way to make this even remotely true is to believe in it. I am not worthy, I know that. But I'll believe that by some miracle, I will find my wings again.