Even though I'm far away from home I feel that the people back in New York are still affecting me. I've tried to distance myself from them to make it easier to be here, but I feel like I haven't distanced myself enough. Oddly enough the only person who made me somewhat happy was Bill. This is a first for me since he's usually the one who makes me feel like crap. Don't get me wrong he did say some stuff that pissed me off, like complaining about not getting weed and rambling about his band. He just doesn't seem to understand boundaries. It's strange because I wonder what he would talk to people about when he was in a hospital. Prob the same things I guess. I guess he really isn't as mature as he makes himself out to be.
Bill and I have always been convinced that we have known each other since we were kids, but there is little evidence to prove that. I’m not really sure how or when we became friends, but sometime during my freshman year of high school my nights became consumed by hours of conversation with him on the phone. He had long blonde hair which soon turned into long blonde dreadlocks, wore Jncos that could fit a family of four into one pant leg, and truly believed that he was Kurt Cobain reincarnate (even though he was ten when Kurt Cobain died). He had a penchant for drugs and a desire for destruction, yet at the same time he was one of the sweetest most innocent people I had ever met. I was smitten. It was a problem.
During the first year of our friendship, Bill got admitted into a mental hospital after an altercation with his dad. His demeanor was of a sweet goofy puppy dog, but when he got angry he had no control over what he was doing. The phrase, “they don’t know who they’re fucking with, I’m crazy”, was one I heard often. He was gone for weeks and once he was discharged got placed on probation for about a year. I don’t know if he was “stickin' it to the man”, testing fate, or just plain being a child who didn’t want to hear the word “no”, but as soon as the probation went into effect it became his mission to do everything legally possible to get high. He became obsessed with DXM and started buying family sized bottles of Robitussin on the regular. He cooked nutmeg, which apparently makes you trip, grew salvia, and started breaking apart air conditioners so he could huff freon. It was ridiculous and looking back on it now, it all seems so grossly insane. But at the time I’d just sigh and shake my head, “Oh Bill you silly boy, you so crazy. I love you”
I was in teenage girl love and there was nothing he could do that would change that. I waited giddily for his call every night and my heart jumped every time the phone rang. In-between cheesy jokes, Trent Reznor rants, and “Long December” sing-a-longs, he’d tell me his drug stories and try to shock me. Bill was all about shock value and he knew I hated that side of him. The dark and violent side that got involved with dangerous people, stupid fights, and eventually hardcore drugs. I didn’t think it was funny or cute and the fact that I didn’t think so made him want to tell me about it that much more. The angrier I got, the more outlandish and exaggerated the stories became.
There was another side to him though, the sad little kid side, the please love and take care of me side. The side that combined with his goofy silliness made me weak in the knees, because I am a girl and all girls want someone to save at some point in their lives. He was constantly depressed and would tell me once a week, if not more, that he was going to kill himself. He’d lay out how and why and when (usually that night when we’d get off the phone) and then every morning I’d go to school and there he would be alive and kicking. In the beginning I listened intently, understanding exactly how he was feeling because I was also struggling with my own depression and thoughts of suicide. Obviously I felt linked to him. Like we were two wounded souls, who had never asked for this sad life, and no one else could even begin to understand our pain, so lets hold hands and leave this world together. Unfortunately, I was the only one dreaming of any hand holding and I’m pretty sure he would have been more than satisfied to leave this world alone.
After a while his threats remained so consistent that they eventually lost all meaning and just started to get annoying. The end for me (of taking him seriously not my undying love, I mean, please, I’m fifteen here) was after one night when he convinced me that he had actually gone through with it by calling me to say goodbye and then getting his friends to instant message me and tell me how worried they were about him. How this time was different and they hadn’t been able to get in touch with him since they had received their very own goodbye call. I don’t know what upset me more. The fact that he was potentially dead or that other people got goodbye calls. Regardless I didn’t know what to do. I felt some weird moral obligation to let it happen and not get involved. I ran outside crying, lit up a cigarette, and walked laps around my neighborhood. My head ran in circles as I battled with myself about whether or not I should tell his parents. By the time I got back, about an hour later, Bill was calling to tell me it was all a joke. I was furious and hung up on him. I couldn’t believe anyone would do that. How could anyone think that was funny? It was then that I realized that he was in a whole other realm of sick than me. I felt like an idiot, but it didn’t stop me from forgiving him almost immediately when he called me the next night. I was in over my head.
I’m sure at a certain point, even before I eventually dramatically confessed my love to him, he knew how I felt. The feelings were not mutual, and I knew this because Bill was obsessed with the ladies and if I was one of his obsessions trust me when I say I would have known. I painfully settled into my role as Mary Stuart Masterson in Some Kind of Wonderful without the happy ending; there were no diamond earrings in my future. I’d play supportive friend and wingman and then go cry to my friends, none of who could understand why I continued to put myself in this situation. Only two of his infatuations became short lived relationships before he ended up with a serious girlfriend. Someone who I of course knew and was friends with. Unrequited love is the pits, especially as an overweight teenage girl with a vivid imagination.
The summer after Bill started seeing his girlfriend was the same summer I had tried to kill myself for the first time. And no, it was not related. I talked to him briefly while I was in the hospital and found out that Stephanie’s boyfriend was holding forums at a train station boasting that he was the reason I attempted to take my own life. He claimed that I was a horrible person who was trying to break up not only his relationship with my best friend, but Bill’s relationship as well. Oh, and that I was in love with Stephanie. So basically, while I was sitting pretty, drawing pictures of my self hatred, in a place that smelled like plastic, next to a man who poops his pants and another who shot himself in the neck, a group of unstable drug addicts were coming together with the mission to hate me. Now I am sure that there were reasons to not like me. I was super emotional and intense and said horrible things when I got angry or felt scorned. But nothing that this kid said had any truth to it. He was a crazy person whose personal vendetta against me I still do not understand. Regardless, people took what he said to heart including Bill and not long after I got released from the psych ward, both Stephanie and Bill stopped talking to me. It was a great summer.
When the school year started I was nervous about seeing Bill for the first time. Most of the people that now hated me had already graduated so I wasn’t really concerned about them, but I was hurt by him, and still not even close to being over him. I wanted our friendship back and I wanted an apology. I walked into the cafeteria where the whole school rallied before first period and my jaw dropped. There he was, standing in the courtyard laughing with his girlfriend looking like a PSA for world hunger. I was horrified and heartbroken by what I was seeing. His face was gaunt and his clothes hung off of him. He must have lost at least thirty pounds. There was no question in my mind that this was the result of drugs. Something had happened that summer while we weren’t speaking, a new level of low, a new level of addiction, and there was nothing I could do to save him.
Eventually we managed to repair our friendship although my crazy feelings for him and his crazy drug use always remained a problem. In the middle of that year he told me he had started doing oxy and he couldn't stop, but wanted to. By the end of that same year he was snorting heroin and by the time he had graduated, was shooting it up. His ridiculous DXM stories were now about crack and heroin. It had been long since our regular phone calls, but every now and then we’d catch up and I’d leave each conversation more angry and disgusted than before.
I feel like when I get home I may have no relationship with Bill what so ever. I've talked about him a lot here, some in therapy but mainly with Rachel. I think when I talk about him it's almost like talking about some made up person. I just feel so disconnected from him. I know in reality it would prob be better if we were pretty disconnected, but for some reason I'm still holding on to him. I say I'm in love with him, but am I? When I wrote that I got this feeling and vision of us together and it gave me that feeling in my stomach. I know part of me losing weight or wanting to lose weight is so I could go home and have him see me and he'd dump Jen and fall for me. I know that that's unrealistic but at the same time I really believe it could happen. Why did I have to fall for someone so emotionally unstable, so co-dependent, and so addicted to drugs? This is driving me crazy. I just wish he felt the same way I do, I wish he loved me, but at the same time I wish I didn't love him. Also, I'm confused that maybe I don't. Why do I want his parents to approve of me so much? Maybe I just want everyone to approve of me. Why did I tell Rachel that he wrote a song for me like it was a love song or something when in reality it's a song about him letting me down. Maybe I thought if she believed it was a song like that, it would make me and Bill sound like some secret love. Maybe it was just because I wanted it to be a song like that. Him secretly confessing his love to me. God I want him so bad I can feel all these feelings just rushing back. I need to call Lorenna. I just want to talk to Bill. Why is he never home when I call?? He's going to be disappointed when he sees how fat I am when I come home, everyone will be. Why does everyone have to expect so much from me AHHHH I FUCKING HATE THIS!!!! WHY IS IT SO DIFFICULT FOR ME TO LOSE!!!!!!?????