Strange. All of a sudden Gary decided to contact me. Not even in prose, mind you, directly quoting what he wrote to me:

“I must be cruel only to be kind;
Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.
I wish you well and so I take my leave,
I Pray you know me when we meet again.”
-William Shakespeare

Knowing him (more or less) I can imagine he meant 90% of it, and the rest might be just residue. The implications of me even getting it are as follows in this blog post.

I know I should be working on math, but this is very important.

1. He’s not dead.

Whether or not he’s willing to talk to me, he’s at least alive. Knowing he is at least set my mind of that worrying thought.

2. He feels obligated to at least tell me something

It does appear that he doesn’t want to just let me think what I want to think and pretend he’s dead or something like that. He at least wants me to know he’s alive, and hopefully fine.

3. He could be ambivalent about the whole thing

Perhaps I wasn’t the only one who thought we hit something off. Perhaps so did he, maybe it’s just something else. Who knows.

4. He doesn’t want to talk to me now

Perhaps the most puzzling aspect of this. He doesn’t seem to want me to contact him, and is very determined to keep doing so. Am I the only one? Who knows. Hopefully not.

5. Maybe, hope?

Who knows. Still one question haunts me, why? Why me, why him, why now, why at all? Was it something I said? Is it something he’s going through? Plenty of questions, perhaps to remain unanswered.

But why, we hit something off, I don’t see why you have to just go like that all of a sudden - we can work it out, I’m sure. Please, Gary.

I have come to a conclusion that I’m simply afraid of anything that yields face-to-face consequences. I can’t help it.

The problem seems to be that anything that could yield a face-to-face consquence, i.e. someone I know in “real life” changing their attitude towards me, scares me shitless. Consequentially, I’m stuck unable to interact with some people. When asked, I’ll say everything’s fine. “I’m doing alright, don’t worry about me” - but really, am I?

My blog is read. That’s for fact. By the wrong (maybe) people, and thus, it yields face-to-face consequences which I’m very often unable to deal with.

Today I skipped school, I couldn’t help it. In a dream I’ve had last night, I was receiving a phone call from a certain person, whom I shall name Gary. Gary disappeared a while ago, no phone calls, no emails, no messages, his profile was deleted (actively by him, as it hasn’t been 90 days since his disappearance) - when I try to call him I get his answering machine after about four rings. I never met him in person, never went on a date, nothing. Nothing works, I don’t know where he is.  Disappeared, vanished into thin air. So the dream starts with my cell phone ringing, I pick it up still in bed, while staring at the ceiling. It’s him, I can’t see the name though on the caller ID, it’s blurry without my glasses.

No hello, no nothing. He starts yelling at me over the phone. I, being half asleep at that point, am not able to respond. I interject some approving groans and that seems to appease him, and so he moves to the next point. Great, I don’t know what you’re saying anyway.

At some point, I get tired of listening to him saying “look, I’m tired” and hanging up. He seemed upset over the phone, and soon enough, I regret having hung up on him and resolve that I should give up. Gary doesn’t call back, and I break into tears with regret and fall back to sleep.

I woke up at around 10:00. I decided I can’t go to school today, and that I have to sort things out between myself about this whole thing, it’s too important for me to just leave it like that.

A friend of mine from WoW insisted that he doesn’t want to hear about my dreams, for some reason. Maybe it’s because I suggested that he was flirting with me when he called me “furball”, but seriously, you have to admit it would make sense.

Moruku on the other hand was most helpful, though I simply couldn’t formulate it at that point, so we ended up not talking about it.

Something occured to me, was I really dreaming? I checked my call log, and Gary’s number doesn’t seem to show up. Looks like I was just dreaming after all.

Come back, Gary, please. I need you to at least tell me you’re fine, I’m worried about you.

Damn this thing! Usually around April I’d be starting to run completely dry and simply lose the balance and the “working mindset”, and in turn enter a self-catalysing state (which spontaneously stops). It starts with me not feeling like working. Too many stimuli and too little interest.It occured to me that unless I get a “proper” grade in my IB diploma (if I don’t fail and get a certificate instead), my chances of getting into a Danish university are actually fairly low.

This brings me to a couple of a interesting points.

1. So I got an IB diploma - and…?

Unlike my classmates, I’m not going straight to university. My future isn’t as certain as theirs. What if I don’t manage to get out of the army? In that case, there’s no point in applying to a university right now. And suppose I did have to apply, I’ll probably do it in Denmark, where the curriculum is probably going to be in Danish (unless I take the odd course in English or so), so in other words, I’ll have to learn Danish. I’ll take about two or three years just to get that to a good academic level. So, 2-6 years after graduation just until I can even think about applying.

So, suppose I waited 2-6 years, I might as well go do a shitty crash-course and graduate the untraditional way. I’ll go to that length, why shouldn’t I just keep going?

2. If I can hardly make it now - will I be able to make it through a (theoretically) more demanding course?

I’m struggling, torn between meds and mood swings, grades slipping. Why is it going to be any easier on me then than it is now?

3. Working as a waiter = more than enough to live. Working as an analyst = more than enough to live.

You guessed it, thanks to socialism, the minimum wage can actually sustain me. And you know what, waiters are overpaid anyway. So I can actually stay alive and buy me all the things I need. No problem.

4. Living on student subsidies isn’t that great, unless you have savings.

It occured to me that living on student subsidies probably isn’t much fun. I know people who live like that - either their parents support them or their partner. It’s livable, just a bit under the standards.

Conclusion

Please tell me I’m wrong.