When I was in college, I kept an online journal. Actually, I kept two – one public, and one private. (Sound familiar?) The private journal showcased all the crazy in my head that I was afraid to let into open air, afraid might get me committed. I’m still a little shocked that the friend or two that knew of it didn’t positively flip out when reading it and slightly more shocked that in the years that followed, I actually became crazier.
The following is a piece I began (and never really finished) in February of 2005. Crazy how much of it would apply again and again and again in the years to come.
It’s all very romantic at first–this love affair you have. The forbidden nature of it makes it exciting, sensual. She is your perfect paramour. Your heart skips a beat and you grow faint, you love her so. So innocent in the beginning–getting to know each other. Fingers glide across skin and bone as you explore every aspect of each other’s bodies. It is glamorous, beautiful, your love. No one knows about her, but they see her effects. Your skin glows (she has encouraged you to drink more water), you smile easily, they tell you that you look great–what’s your secret? You can’t tell them about her, of course. They would never approve of your love. But you love her, and she loves you.
You begin to spend more time together. You don’t see it, but she is changing you. Changing the way you act, the way you think. You spend less time with friends, more time with her. The two of you are never apart. She is with you when you sleep, when you read, when you sit through classes. It is a comfort to always have her by your side, and you don’t see what she is doing to you.
(For more fun reading, I posted a page called “Prologue,” which also highlights some writing from this time.)