This is my last post, and, as such, I know it'll be the first thing a casual visitor to this site sees. It's unfortunate that blogs post in reverse chronological order, because, with any story, the best place to begin is at the beginning.
With this story perhaps it would be best not to begin at all. I would delete this blog, except that I can't bring myself to destroy this record of a time in my life, and, more importantly, a time in the life of someone else, someone who was (and is) very close to me.
I think she wants her story to be out there, and there's no way I could disrespect her wishes at this point. Not after... well. Once you've heard her story, and mine, you'll understand. I hope.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Oh, she'll be there.
The official verdict is that Luna died by drowning after sleepwalking into the pond. Case closed. Sleepwalking is dangerous, the newspaper said in last week's article. People who sleepwalk are a danger to themselves and others. It's funny — well, not in the sense of being humorous — because the same can be said about people who are suicidal.
I know it had to be suicide. I'll take that information to my own grave, be it watery or otherwise, before admit it to Luna's parents. What matter, anyway? They don't want to hear me. They want to think it was a tragic accident, not something done purposefully, and if there's any blame to be had they want to shoulder it themselves.
The funeral was lovely. Or so I'm told. I didn't attend because I spent that day vomiting up everything I ate. It was a faked illness, or partly so. If you fake an illness, I suppose that isn't too different from being ill itself. Isn't a sign of sickness to want to convince others you're sick? I know I'm not well, too. Not physically, but spiritually, and perhaps mentally as well.
I feel as if I might be going crazy.
Last night I had a dream. I dreamed I saw Luna, sitting in her bedroom like she used to all the time when we would hang out. She looked faintly blue, and her eyes were dead and glassy. When she saw me, though, she smiled.
"Hi," she said, just like we had never had a fight. "You wanna hang out?"
"You're dead," I told her.
"I know," she said. Her hair and nightgown were still sopping wet, and her discolored skin glistened with water.
I sat down on the bed beside her and she put her arm around me. She felt cold and clammy.
"Do you want to hear about the moon?" she asked me.
"Sure," I said, because there wasn't really anything else to say. "Tell me about the moon."
"The moon is smaller than the Earth," Luna said, "but the moon is still important. It controls the water, you know? Tides. And humans are mostly water. People used to think the full moon could make the water rise up in you and drive you crazy."
"That's dumb," I told her. "Just an old myth."
She smiled again. The expression in those dead-fish eyes never changed.
"You're crazy, Loony," I told her, and my voice echoed hollowly in the room.
"I know," she said. "But you are, too. You can go crazy lots of different ways. Some people are born crazy. Some people go crazy. And some people — they sort of get forced into being crazy, because something happens to them and it drives them nuts."
"So which one were you?"
She shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I'm nothing anymore, remember? I'm dead."
"You're still talking to me."
"I'm a ghost," she said. "To you, anyway. I'll probably talk to you again sometime, maybe lots of times. When you're asleep. When you're awake. It doesn't matter to me. You're my best friend, Jack, and I'll keep you company forever if I have to. Bad things happened to me when I was alive and I want to be sure that they don't happen to you."
I stood up. "I'm leaving, Luna. I'm not ever coming back."
"You don't need to," she said mildly. "I'll go where you go."
In her hands was the rock. It glowed softly and pulsed, thrumming out a quiet, steady heartbeat.
I keep expecting to see her now. I keep glancing over my shoulder, and around corners, and just waiting for her to show up. I've had such trouble believing she's gone, and, well... maybe that's because she isn't. Not to me, anyway. Does that sound crazy?
Small matter if it does, I guess. Crazy or not, it's my reality now. I live in a world where either the ghosts of dead girls walk the earth, or where the ghost of my former best friend walks my mind; whether actual or imaginary, the end result is the same. I'm stuck with her. I can't get away. She'll be here forever, or at least until the day I die.
I used to think that day would be so, so long away.
It doesn't feel so far-off anymore.
I know it had to be suicide. I'll take that information to my own grave, be it watery or otherwise, before admit it to Luna's parents. What matter, anyway? They don't want to hear me. They want to think it was a tragic accident, not something done purposefully, and if there's any blame to be had they want to shoulder it themselves.
The funeral was lovely. Or so I'm told. I didn't attend because I spent that day vomiting up everything I ate. It was a faked illness, or partly so. If you fake an illness, I suppose that isn't too different from being ill itself. Isn't a sign of sickness to want to convince others you're sick? I know I'm not well, too. Not physically, but spiritually, and perhaps mentally as well.
I feel as if I might be going crazy.
Last night I had a dream. I dreamed I saw Luna, sitting in her bedroom like she used to all the time when we would hang out. She looked faintly blue, and her eyes were dead and glassy. When she saw me, though, she smiled.
"Hi," she said, just like we had never had a fight. "You wanna hang out?"
"You're dead," I told her.
"I know," she said. Her hair and nightgown were still sopping wet, and her discolored skin glistened with water.
I sat down on the bed beside her and she put her arm around me. She felt cold and clammy.
"Do you want to hear about the moon?" she asked me.
"Sure," I said, because there wasn't really anything else to say. "Tell me about the moon."
"The moon is smaller than the Earth," Luna said, "but the moon is still important. It controls the water, you know? Tides. And humans are mostly water. People used to think the full moon could make the water rise up in you and drive you crazy."
"That's dumb," I told her. "Just an old myth."
She smiled again. The expression in those dead-fish eyes never changed.
"You're crazy, Loony," I told her, and my voice echoed hollowly in the room.
"I know," she said. "But you are, too. You can go crazy lots of different ways. Some people are born crazy. Some people go crazy. And some people — they sort of get forced into being crazy, because something happens to them and it drives them nuts."
"So which one were you?"
She shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I'm nothing anymore, remember? I'm dead."
"You're still talking to me."
"I'm a ghost," she said. "To you, anyway. I'll probably talk to you again sometime, maybe lots of times. When you're asleep. When you're awake. It doesn't matter to me. You're my best friend, Jack, and I'll keep you company forever if I have to. Bad things happened to me when I was alive and I want to be sure that they don't happen to you."
I stood up. "I'm leaving, Luna. I'm not ever coming back."
"You don't need to," she said mildly. "I'll go where you go."
In her hands was the rock. It glowed softly and pulsed, thrumming out a quiet, steady heartbeat.
I keep expecting to see her now. I keep glancing over my shoulder, and around corners, and just waiting for her to show up. I've had such trouble believing she's gone, and, well... maybe that's because she isn't. Not to me, anyway. Does that sound crazy?
Small matter if it does, I guess. Crazy or not, it's my reality now. I live in a world where either the ghosts of dead girls walk the earth, or where the ghost of my former best friend walks my mind; whether actual or imaginary, the end result is the same. I'm stuck with her. I can't get away. She'll be here forever, or at least until the day I die.
I used to think that day would be so, so long away.
It doesn't feel so far-off anymore.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
I have to remind myself every few seconds. She's dead. That's what I keep thinking. The phrase doesn't feel like it means anything anymore.
My mother ungrounded me so I could go see Donna and Matt. I don't have the nerve to. I don't know how I possibly could have the nerve to.
I'm going to have to go to the funeral. That's going to be bad enough.
I hate the way I sound, writing about this. The words look so casually bland. They come as easily as they always do. Shouldn't it be different? Someone I knew is dead. Shouldn't that change the way I feel? Shouldn't I be crying and screaming right now?
Dead, though, it's like it isn't a word anymore. It's just four letters. I caught myself staring at the word and thinking it would be neater if it were "deed" or "daad" because it would be symmetrical.
Did I kill Luna? That's another phrase that means nothing anymore.
Erin doesn't know about this, of course. This is only local news, and she isn't local anymore now that she's off to college. I would tell her, but it would just be more evidence of what a horrible screw-up I am.
Luna might be dead because of me. Does it matter? Either way she's dead. Either way it's horrible and incomprehensible. I can't get my brain around it. She's really gone. There is no more Luna.
My mother ungrounded me so I could go see Donna and Matt. I don't have the nerve to. I don't know how I possibly could have the nerve to.
I'm going to have to go to the funeral. That's going to be bad enough.
I hate the way I sound, writing about this. The words look so casually bland. They come as easily as they always do. Shouldn't it be different? Someone I knew is dead. Shouldn't that change the way I feel? Shouldn't I be crying and screaming right now?
Dead, though, it's like it isn't a word anymore. It's just four letters. I caught myself staring at the word and thinking it would be neater if it were "deed" or "daad" because it would be symmetrical.
Did I kill Luna? That's another phrase that means nothing anymore.
Erin doesn't know about this, of course. This is only local news, and she isn't local anymore now that she's off to college. I would tell her, but it would just be more evidence of what a horrible screw-up I am.
Luna might be dead because of me. Does it matter? Either way she's dead. Either way it's horrible and incomprehensible. I can't get my brain around it. She's really gone. There is no more Luna.
Luna
I never thought I'd have to post here again. It's just that...
Luna's gone.
Not disappeared — gone, in the sense of won't ever come back — I don't want to have to type the word. It doesn't seem real and typing it makes it seem even less real.
I'll give it a try anyway. She's dead. Deceased. No longer with us. Passed on. Passed away. Dead. Drowned.
I feel numb writing this.
They found her yesterday morning. In the pond. I didn't learn about it until today. Dad told me. They called us, Donna and Matt, left a message. I can't bring myself to go listen to it...
Dad listened, though. He says Luna's parents said she sleepwalked into the pond. She's supposed to lock her door at night so she can't leave her room when she sleepwalks, but the door wasn't locked on the night of the fifteenth, when she... you know. The key was still on her nightstand.
The thought is that Luna walked down to the pond, asleep, fell in, and couldn't save herself. The pond is pretty deep. She wouldn't have been able to touch the bottom, and she can't swim. She was also wearing a long flannel nightgown, which would have gotten waterlogged and dragged her down.
Those are the facts. Key on the nightstand. Flannel nightgown. Couldn't swim. Sleepwalker.
And then there are the things I know. She was unhappy. She had just had a big fight with me. She was friendless, lonely. Her favorite album has several tracks about suicide, and the title track is about Ophelia, a girl who went mad and drowned.
One of her most precious possessions — yes, only a rock, but still precious to her — was thrown in that very pond. By me.
I could have helped her. Erin was right. I'm selfish, but if I wasn't, I could have showed Donna and Matt Luna's blog. I could have told them I was concerned about some of their daughter's behavior. I might have been able to save her.
Instead, did I help kill her?
I've gone numb, emotionally. I haven't cried for her yet and I don't know if I ever can. I still can't believe she's gone, you know, really gone, forever...
I have to give myself time to process this. I feel much, much too calm, but only because I can't feel anything else yet. I haven't had the time for it to sink in.
I can't believe this is real.
Luna's gone.
Not disappeared — gone, in the sense of won't ever come back — I don't want to have to type the word. It doesn't seem real and typing it makes it seem even less real.
I'll give it a try anyway. She's dead. Deceased. No longer with us. Passed on. Passed away. Dead. Drowned.
I feel numb writing this.
They found her yesterday morning. In the pond. I didn't learn about it until today. Dad told me. They called us, Donna and Matt, left a message. I can't bring myself to go listen to it...
Dad listened, though. He says Luna's parents said she sleepwalked into the pond. She's supposed to lock her door at night so she can't leave her room when she sleepwalks, but the door wasn't locked on the night of the fifteenth, when she... you know. The key was still on her nightstand.
The thought is that Luna walked down to the pond, asleep, fell in, and couldn't save herself. The pond is pretty deep. She wouldn't have been able to touch the bottom, and she can't swim. She was also wearing a long flannel nightgown, which would have gotten waterlogged and dragged her down.
Those are the facts. Key on the nightstand. Flannel nightgown. Couldn't swim. Sleepwalker.
And then there are the things I know. She was unhappy. She had just had a big fight with me. She was friendless, lonely. Her favorite album has several tracks about suicide, and the title track is about Ophelia, a girl who went mad and drowned.
One of her most precious possessions — yes, only a rock, but still precious to her — was thrown in that very pond. By me.
I could have helped her. Erin was right. I'm selfish, but if I wasn't, I could have showed Donna and Matt Luna's blog. I could have told them I was concerned about some of their daughter's behavior. I might have been able to save her.
Instead, did I help kill her?
I've gone numb, emotionally. I haven't cried for her yet and I don't know if I ever can. I still can't believe she's gone, you know, really gone, forever...
I have to give myself time to process this. I feel much, much too calm, but only because I can't feel anything else yet. I haven't had the time for it to sink in.
I can't believe this is real.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
I think maybe I'm going to stop blogging.
I'll miss it, but it's just becoming too painful for me. This blog reminds me of everything I've lost — my friendship with Luna, my friendship with Erin — and why I lost it. All this blog is is a record of everything I've done wrong.
I like to think I've learned from the experience, that I'll never repeat the same mistakes. But I know better than that. History repeats itself; history is the story of humans making the same mistakes over and over and over again. Every time we think we've learned and we never really have. Can I count myself above the entire human race here and say that I'll never make these mistakes again?
Erin is right, though. I'll never get anywhere if I don't keep trying. And that's why I think that, maybe next semester, I'm going to go back to public school.
Those kids who bullied me are older now. And if I can't believe that they've changed, I don't know how I can believe in myself to change.
I have to try to move on and start over.
Maybe I'll keep blogging, too, somewhere else. Maybe I'll get a Tumblr like Erin always wanted me to. I like blogging, but I don't think being on this blog is going to help me move on with my life. If anything, it's going to hold me back.
This is probably going to be my last post.
I like to think I've learned from the experience, that I'll never repeat the same mistakes. But I know better than that. History repeats itself; history is the story of humans making the same mistakes over and over and over again. Every time we think we've learned and we never really have. Can I count myself above the entire human race here and say that I'll never make these mistakes again?
Erin is right, though. I'll never get anywhere if I don't keep trying. And that's why I think that, maybe next semester, I'm going to go back to public school.
Those kids who bullied me are older now. And if I can't believe that they've changed, I don't know how I can believe in myself to change.
I have to try to move on and start over.
Maybe I'll keep blogging, too, somewhere else. Maybe I'll get a Tumblr like Erin always wanted me to. I like blogging, but I don't think being on this blog is going to help me move on with my life. If anything, it's going to hold me back.
This is probably going to be my last post.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
I can't believe this...
swerin: dude, I need to talk to you.
swerin: about luna.
Jack Q: I don't want to talk about her.
swerin: then just listen to me
swerin: this could be important
swerin: and by could be i mean it probably is
swerin: listen. i was going back through some of your old blog posts and i found the one where you linked to luna's blog, and, well
swerin: that's not her real blog in that link
Jack Q: What are you talking about?
swerin: lunacatblog dot wordpress
swerin: its not lunas real blog
Jack Q: Of course it's her "real blog", you're not making any sense.
Jack Q: Since when is there such a thing as a fake blog?
swerin: oh youd be surprised pal
swerin: it looks like she set this blog up as a sideblog so she could trick her parents into thinking it was her real one
swerin: and also so she could trick you apparently.
Jack Q: Erin, I really don't want to talk about Luna anymore.
Jack Q: Can we please talk about something else?
Jack Q: Anything else?
swerin: no let me finish. this might be important
swerin: if you go to the most recent post
swerin: the one with the lolcat pic captioned "i have seen the end" or something like that?
swerin: look at the comments
swerin: she commented on her own blog apparently to test the comments function
swerin: if you click on her username it takes u to her real blog
swerin: http://itsjustluna.wordpress.com/
swerin: are you reading it?
Jack Q: I don't want to. I don't want to have to think about Luna any more than I already do, Erin, could you please respect that?
swerin: what if i told u that some things are more important than your personal comfort level
swerin: for example that your former "friend" thinks her imaginary friends are the ghosts of real people
swerin: and that she hallucinates things
swerin: look at the post where she says she heard voices telling her terrible things and that her other ghost friend wouldnt protect her
swerin: thats crazy people talk
swerin: i think you need to get back in contact with luna's 'rents
swerin: show them her blog
swerin: so they can get her help
Jack Q: Erin, I am serious. I want no further involvement in this situation. I've done enough.
swerin: no you havent this is your chance to fix some of what you broke
swerin: you can get help for luna
swerin: come on man it aint so bad as you're making it out to be
Jack Q: It's every bit as bad as that.
Jack Q: I don't want to get reinvolved. It would be too painful to me to do so.
swerin: oh my shitting christ are you serious
swerin: i just told u a little girl needs psychiatric help and you wont help her get it because it'd be "too painful to you"
swerin: newsflash kid
swerin: NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT YOU
swerin: you know that attitude is what wrecked everything to begin with
swerin: you valued personal gain (money/companionship) over someone elses right to not be lied to and taken advantage of
swerin: and you never listened to me because everything in your world is all "jack knows best"
swerin: and now all you're gonna do is whine and wallow in your own tears until someone rescues you from it
swerin: well im telling u what that someone aint gonna be me
swerin: talk to me when you have the guts to actually solve a problem on your own
swerin: i'm out
Jack Q: You can't be serious.
Jack Q: Erin, wait!
Jack Q: You're the only friend I've got. I'll try to listen to you more in the future, just please don't abandon me...
swerin: jack let's be honest
swerin: your friendship with me isn't too different from what u had w/luna
swerin: sure you knew i was asked to be your buddy
swerin: but the end result is the same
swerin: its not a friendship that happened naturally
swerin: theres no give and take here
swerin: you come to me when you want my help but when do we ever talk outside of that?
swerin: im not losing anything by not being friends with you the way you act right now
swerin: and you're not losing anything either because you don't realize it yet but the kind of friendship we have right now isn't worth shit
swerin: you're not a bad person jack im not saying that
swerin: but you need to learn to solve your own problems
swerin: until then i don't think we can be pals
Jack Q: Erin, please... you're all I've got...
swerin: jack
swerin: if you put yourself out there a little more
swerin: if you'd just have the guts to do that
swerin: you could be a great person
swerin: and you could do so much more and have so much more than you do right now
swerin: until you learn to have more courage and determination and ambition you're not gonna amount to much
swerin: thats the simple truth of it
swerin: i dont really have a grand final note to end this conversation on so im just gonna log off
swerin: so long jack
swerin: i wish you all the best of luck
swerin: about luna.
Jack Q: I don't want to talk about her.
swerin: then just listen to me
swerin: this could be important
swerin: and by could be i mean it probably is
swerin: listen. i was going back through some of your old blog posts and i found the one where you linked to luna's blog, and, well
swerin: that's not her real blog in that link
Jack Q: What are you talking about?
swerin: lunacatblog dot wordpress
swerin: its not lunas real blog
Jack Q: Of course it's her "real blog", you're not making any sense.
Jack Q: Since when is there such a thing as a fake blog?
swerin: oh youd be surprised pal
swerin: it looks like she set this blog up as a sideblog so she could trick her parents into thinking it was her real one
swerin: and also so she could trick you apparently.
Jack Q: Erin, I really don't want to talk about Luna anymore.
Jack Q: Can we please talk about something else?
Jack Q: Anything else?
swerin: no let me finish. this might be important
swerin: if you go to the most recent post
swerin: the one with the lolcat pic captioned "i have seen the end" or something like that?
swerin: look at the comments
swerin: she commented on her own blog apparently to test the comments function
swerin: if you click on her username it takes u to her real blog
swerin: http://itsjustluna.wordpress.com/
swerin: are you reading it?
Jack Q: I don't want to. I don't want to have to think about Luna any more than I already do, Erin, could you please respect that?
swerin: what if i told u that some things are more important than your personal comfort level
swerin: for example that your former "friend" thinks her imaginary friends are the ghosts of real people
swerin: and that she hallucinates things
swerin: look at the post where she says she heard voices telling her terrible things and that her other ghost friend wouldnt protect her
swerin: thats crazy people talk
swerin: i think you need to get back in contact with luna's 'rents
swerin: show them her blog
swerin: so they can get her help
Jack Q: Erin, I am serious. I want no further involvement in this situation. I've done enough.
swerin: no you havent this is your chance to fix some of what you broke
swerin: you can get help for luna
swerin: come on man it aint so bad as you're making it out to be
Jack Q: It's every bit as bad as that.
Jack Q: I don't want to get reinvolved. It would be too painful to me to do so.
swerin: oh my shitting christ are you serious
swerin: i just told u a little girl needs psychiatric help and you wont help her get it because it'd be "too painful to you"
swerin: newsflash kid
swerin: NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT YOU
swerin: you know that attitude is what wrecked everything to begin with
swerin: you valued personal gain (money/companionship) over someone elses right to not be lied to and taken advantage of
swerin: and you never listened to me because everything in your world is all "jack knows best"
swerin: and now all you're gonna do is whine and wallow in your own tears until someone rescues you from it
swerin: well im telling u what that someone aint gonna be me
swerin: talk to me when you have the guts to actually solve a problem on your own
swerin: i'm out
Jack Q: You can't be serious.
Jack Q: Erin, wait!
Jack Q: You're the only friend I've got. I'll try to listen to you more in the future, just please don't abandon me...
swerin: jack let's be honest
swerin: your friendship with me isn't too different from what u had w/luna
swerin: sure you knew i was asked to be your buddy
swerin: but the end result is the same
swerin: its not a friendship that happened naturally
swerin: theres no give and take here
swerin: you come to me when you want my help but when do we ever talk outside of that?
swerin: im not losing anything by not being friends with you the way you act right now
swerin: and you're not losing anything either because you don't realize it yet but the kind of friendship we have right now isn't worth shit
swerin: you're not a bad person jack im not saying that
swerin: but you need to learn to solve your own problems
swerin: until then i don't think we can be pals
Jack Q: Erin, please... you're all I've got...
swerin: jack
swerin: if you put yourself out there a little more
swerin: if you'd just have the guts to do that
swerin: you could be a great person
swerin: and you could do so much more and have so much more than you do right now
swerin: until you learn to have more courage and determination and ambition you're not gonna amount to much
swerin: thats the simple truth of it
swerin: i dont really have a grand final note to end this conversation on so im just gonna log off
swerin: so long jack
swerin: i wish you all the best of luck
Dad said he'd tell my mother about what happened. He didn't. She asked about it today when Dad wasn't around, and so I was forced to tell her myself.
Now Mother's grounded me until Halloween to "teach me some respect". Whatever that's supposed to mean.
I don't really mind, I guess. It wasn't like I had anywhere to go anyway. I have no friends, I'm stuck at home all day long regardless. At least she didn't take away my computer.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
I told my dad about what happened. Not in much detail, just that Luna found out I was getting paid to hang out with her and that she hates me now. He told me to look on the bright side, that my friendship with Luna probably wouldn't have worked anyway, and at least I've still got Erin. Sure, as much as I ever had Erin. She's off at college and I barely get to see her or talk to her anymore. I miss feeling like I had real friends, even if it was all a lie. I wish I wasn't so alone...
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Sunday
I couldn't bring myself to go to lunch with Donna. I wrote her an email instead.
Dear Donna,
Anything bad that Luna says about me is probably true. I've been awful to her and I don't deserve her forgiveness, or yours. I can try and pay you back all the money you've given me for watching Luna. I don't deserve any of it and it was wrong of me to take it in the first place.
I shouldn't have any further contact with Luna; it would likely serve only to worsen the situation between the two of us.
For the record, I am incredibly sorry about all of this. However, you don't need to accept my apology or even acknowledge it. I don't deserve that much.
I wish the best to you and your family.
JackShe wrote back a couple hours later:
Hi Jackie!
Did you and Luna have a fight? She's locked herself up in her room all day. Whatever happened, I'm sure you aren't to blame. You have always been a wonderful friend to her.
I hope you two work through this. I'm sure you will! :)
Love, DonnaI couldn't bring myself to reply to that. She doesn't understand the magnitude of the situation just yet. I'm sure Luna will explain it to her soon; I don't have the courage to do so myself, anyway. Trying to tell my mother will be bad enough as it is.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
And I'm sorry to cause you so much pain, and I'm sorry to bring you down again...
I can't believe what just happened.
I suppose I should have seen it coming. Certainly I was warned. Erin, why didn't I listen to you? You were right. You've probably been right about everything you've ever warned me of, and in retrospect I can't believe I didn't heed your warnings...
I'm getting ahead of myself, though. I guess I should just explain what happened.
I went over to Luna's to return the rock. The car wasn't in the driveway and nobody answered when I knocked, so I headed over to the pond figuring Luna was there. I was right; she was laying on the branch that extends out over the water, like she was on the day I first met her.
I thought she didn't see me until she spoke.
"Remember the first time you met me? I was lying on this branch."
"I was just thinking about that," I told her. I took a couple steps closer to the tree. Luna's newly-short hair was falling into her face, obscuring its features, but I was willing to bet her eyes were staring at me from behind that curtain of hair. It made me a bit uneasy.
"Were you?" she said.
"Yes. You on that tree branch reminded me." I was beginning to have a sense of foreboding about the whole thing. Something didn't feel right. It was a beautiful early fall evening, just cool enough for me to be wearing my hoodie (in the front pocket of which I had Luna's rock); the pond was perfectly still; the setting sun was casting glorious reds and golds over the entire landscape. I had noted how beautiful everything was on my bike ride over, but now the world seemed oddly reduced; diminished until nothing remained but the girl lying on the tree branch, all but perfectly motionless.
"What else do you remember about that day?"
"Um..." I searched for something I could say about that evening without incriminating myself. "You were nice to me. You invited me up to your room even though you'd only just met me."
"Because I trusted you," Luna said, and there was sudden venom in her voice. She brought her head up suddenly to look at me. Her eyes were puffy as though she'd been crying, but right now they were dry, bright, and furious.
"I thought you were my friend. How could you lie to me like that?"
I took a step back in surprise. "Lie to you?" I asked, almost stumbling over the words.
It was stupid. I should have confessed it all then, but I had been so used to keeping up the pretense that, even after it had already half-fallen, I couldn't stand to let it drop.
"You're still lying!" Luna pushed herself up into a sitting position on the tree branch. "All you ever did was lie to me! I can't believe my parents were paying you to be my friend—"
"Luna, it wasn't like that!" I searched my mind frantically for some way to turn the situation around, but could think of nothing. What possible defense could I have against her accusations? "How'd you find out?" I asked instead, hesitantly.
"Your blog. I found your blog, where..." she took a deep, shuddering breath, "where you talk about me, and just write down every little thing about me and how you're tricking me into being friends with you just so you can get paid for it, and it's all a big fat lie, our entire friendship. It's all a lie."
"It's not!" I seized my chance. "Luna, I really do care about you! The money wasn't important to me—"
"Then why did you take my parents' money?" Luna's voice rose. "You would have told them to keep their money if you really liked me! Plus, I know you don't care about me anyway, you just think I'm a dumb little kid—"
"That's not true," I tried to interject.
"It is true!" Luna was practically yelling now. I worried she was going to fall out of the tree and into the pond. "You always treat me like I'm so much younger! I'm only three years younger than you and that isn't that much! It's like when people were treating you like a girly-girl and you didn't like it — that's how it feels when you treat me like I'm a little kid!"
I regret to say that at that moment I lost my own temper.
"That's completely different. You are a little kid, Luna! You're only twelve! Sorry to tell you this, but just because you cut your own hair doesn't make you any older! It doesn't work like that! Next time you want to stage some 'middle-school rebellious phase' bullshit, don't copy me!"
"I thought you'd be proud of me!" Luna yelled. She jumped down from the tree, tottered for an instant, then regained her balance and stretched herself up to her full height (which is scarcely over five feet tall). "I'm doing what I want instead of listening to what my parents want for me! You should know all about that, Jackie!"
I froze.
"What the hell did you just call me?" I asked. My voice was low and quiet with anger.
Luna smirked, her gray eyes gleaming fiercely in the twilight.
"Jackie," she said, drawing out the word. "Patricia Jacqueline," she singsonged. Her eyes hardened. "Sorry to tell you this, but just because you call yourself a boy name doesn't make you a boy. You're still a little girly-girl, no matter how many times you cut your hair, Jackie—"
I could my body shaking and my pulse pounding in my temples. By some miracle, I managed to keep my voice steady as I replied.
"I came back over here to give you something." My right hand fumbled, trembling, into my pocket, fingers closing around Luna's rock. When I drew it out, her eyes widened, and her smirk vanished abruptly.
"Give me that!"
"I would have if you asked nicely." I drew my arm back, and Luna leaned forward, one hand outstretched towards my hand holding the rock. "But I guess you don't really want it."
"Give it back!" She was really screaming now. Both of her arms were on my right arm, trying to pull it down. I twisted out of her grasp, turned to face the pond, and brought my arm forward, releasing the rock as I did so. It splashed into the pond, breaking the mirror-like surface of the water into bold, concentric ripples.
Luna seemed to freeze, staring at the spot where the rock had disappeared. Her face, which had been flushed with anger, turned pale, and her eyes suddenly flooded with tears.
"Look, I'm..." I tried to put a hand on her shoulder, but she lashed out, swiping my hand away. "I'm sorry, Luna, I shouldn't have—"
"Look what you've done!" she gasped through her tears. Her eyes were still angry, but there was something else there, too; a deep sadness that made me instantly regret everything I'd just done. "I can't get it back now," she continued through her sobs, "because I can't even swim, and it's going to lie there forever at the bottom of the pond and I can never have it back..."
She didn't really seem to be addressing me anymore. Her eyes were fixed on some point behind me and over my head, as though she were speaking to some unseen entity.
"I could try—" I began.
"No!" Her eyes were on me again, and the full force of her fury was behind them. "Go away! I never want to see you again as long as I live. I hate you, Jack, I hate you..."
She broke off again, sobbing. "GO!" she screamed at me one last time, and I, coward that I am, turned and ran.
I ran until I reached my bike, and then I pedaled as fast as I could all the way home and ran up to my room without saying hello to either of my parents. I haven't done a single thing since I got home but write this post and think over every mistake I've made.
If I could take it all back and start over, I would in a heartbeat. Even if it meant never having had Luna as a friend, I would take that over causing her as much pain as I know I've caused her. She never wants to see me again, and I know nothing I can do will ever be enough to make amends to her. I just... Luna, if you're reading this, I never meant for any of it to happen this way, and I'm really, truly sorry...
I suppose I should have seen it coming. Certainly I was warned. Erin, why didn't I listen to you? You were right. You've probably been right about everything you've ever warned me of, and in retrospect I can't believe I didn't heed your warnings...
I'm getting ahead of myself, though. I guess I should just explain what happened.
I went over to Luna's to return the rock. The car wasn't in the driveway and nobody answered when I knocked, so I headed over to the pond figuring Luna was there. I was right; she was laying on the branch that extends out over the water, like she was on the day I first met her.
I thought she didn't see me until she spoke.
"Remember the first time you met me? I was lying on this branch."
"I was just thinking about that," I told her. I took a couple steps closer to the tree. Luna's newly-short hair was falling into her face, obscuring its features, but I was willing to bet her eyes were staring at me from behind that curtain of hair. It made me a bit uneasy.
"Were you?" she said.
"Yes. You on that tree branch reminded me." I was beginning to have a sense of foreboding about the whole thing. Something didn't feel right. It was a beautiful early fall evening, just cool enough for me to be wearing my hoodie (in the front pocket of which I had Luna's rock); the pond was perfectly still; the setting sun was casting glorious reds and golds over the entire landscape. I had noted how beautiful everything was on my bike ride over, but now the world seemed oddly reduced; diminished until nothing remained but the girl lying on the tree branch, all but perfectly motionless.
"What else do you remember about that day?"
"Um..." I searched for something I could say about that evening without incriminating myself. "You were nice to me. You invited me up to your room even though you'd only just met me."
"Because I trusted you," Luna said, and there was sudden venom in her voice. She brought her head up suddenly to look at me. Her eyes were puffy as though she'd been crying, but right now they were dry, bright, and furious.
"I thought you were my friend. How could you lie to me like that?"
I took a step back in surprise. "Lie to you?" I asked, almost stumbling over the words.
It was stupid. I should have confessed it all then, but I had been so used to keeping up the pretense that, even after it had already half-fallen, I couldn't stand to let it drop.
"You're still lying!" Luna pushed herself up into a sitting position on the tree branch. "All you ever did was lie to me! I can't believe my parents were paying you to be my friend—"
"Luna, it wasn't like that!" I searched my mind frantically for some way to turn the situation around, but could think of nothing. What possible defense could I have against her accusations? "How'd you find out?" I asked instead, hesitantly.
"Your blog. I found your blog, where..." she took a deep, shuddering breath, "where you talk about me, and just write down every little thing about me and how you're tricking me into being friends with you just so you can get paid for it, and it's all a big fat lie, our entire friendship. It's all a lie."
"It's not!" I seized my chance. "Luna, I really do care about you! The money wasn't important to me—"
"Then why did you take my parents' money?" Luna's voice rose. "You would have told them to keep their money if you really liked me! Plus, I know you don't care about me anyway, you just think I'm a dumb little kid—"
"That's not true," I tried to interject.
"It is true!" Luna was practically yelling now. I worried she was going to fall out of the tree and into the pond. "You always treat me like I'm so much younger! I'm only three years younger than you and that isn't that much! It's like when people were treating you like a girly-girl and you didn't like it — that's how it feels when you treat me like I'm a little kid!"
I regret to say that at that moment I lost my own temper.
"That's completely different. You are a little kid, Luna! You're only twelve! Sorry to tell you this, but just because you cut your own hair doesn't make you any older! It doesn't work like that! Next time you want to stage some 'middle-school rebellious phase' bullshit, don't copy me!"
"I thought you'd be proud of me!" Luna yelled. She jumped down from the tree, tottered for an instant, then regained her balance and stretched herself up to her full height (which is scarcely over five feet tall). "I'm doing what I want instead of listening to what my parents want for me! You should know all about that, Jackie!"
I froze.
"What the hell did you just call me?" I asked. My voice was low and quiet with anger.
Luna smirked, her gray eyes gleaming fiercely in the twilight.
"Jackie," she said, drawing out the word. "Patricia Jacqueline," she singsonged. Her eyes hardened. "Sorry to tell you this, but just because you call yourself a boy name doesn't make you a boy. You're still a little girly-girl, no matter how many times you cut your hair, Jackie—"
I could my body shaking and my pulse pounding in my temples. By some miracle, I managed to keep my voice steady as I replied.
"I came back over here to give you something." My right hand fumbled, trembling, into my pocket, fingers closing around Luna's rock. When I drew it out, her eyes widened, and her smirk vanished abruptly.
"Give me that!"
"I would have if you asked nicely." I drew my arm back, and Luna leaned forward, one hand outstretched towards my hand holding the rock. "But I guess you don't really want it."
"Give it back!" She was really screaming now. Both of her arms were on my right arm, trying to pull it down. I twisted out of her grasp, turned to face the pond, and brought my arm forward, releasing the rock as I did so. It splashed into the pond, breaking the mirror-like surface of the water into bold, concentric ripples.
Luna seemed to freeze, staring at the spot where the rock had disappeared. Her face, which had been flushed with anger, turned pale, and her eyes suddenly flooded with tears.
"Look, I'm..." I tried to put a hand on her shoulder, but she lashed out, swiping my hand away. "I'm sorry, Luna, I shouldn't have—"
"Look what you've done!" she gasped through her tears. Her eyes were still angry, but there was something else there, too; a deep sadness that made me instantly regret everything I'd just done. "I can't get it back now," she continued through her sobs, "because I can't even swim, and it's going to lie there forever at the bottom of the pond and I can never have it back..."
She didn't really seem to be addressing me anymore. Her eyes were fixed on some point behind me and over my head, as though she were speaking to some unseen entity.
"I could try—" I began.
"No!" Her eyes were on me again, and the full force of her fury was behind them. "Go away! I never want to see you again as long as I live. I hate you, Jack, I hate you..."
She broke off again, sobbing. "GO!" she screamed at me one last time, and I, coward that I am, turned and ran.
I ran until I reached my bike, and then I pedaled as fast as I could all the way home and ran up to my room without saying hello to either of my parents. I haven't done a single thing since I got home but write this post and think over every mistake I've made.
If I could take it all back and start over, I would in a heartbeat. Even if it meant never having had Luna as a friend, I would take that over causing her as much pain as I know I've caused her. She never wants to see me again, and I know nothing I can do will ever be enough to make amends to her. I just... Luna, if you're reading this, I never meant for any of it to happen this way, and I'm really, truly sorry...
I forgot I've still got Luna's rock.
I guess I should bring it back. I don't really want to go over to her place, but I might as well return it before I forget again. Besides, I haven't seen her face-to-face in a couple days.
My grandmother is visiting this weekend, so I'm being asked to clean my room. As if that makes any sense. She's hardly going to be staying in my bedroom, is she? Chances are she won't even see my bedroom while she's there. The guest bedroom is downstairs, so she probably won't be coming upstairs at all. (She can hardly even climb stairs anymore.)
I'm not in a good mood anyway but cleaning always makes it worse.
I'm not in a good mood anyway but cleaning always makes it worse.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
I'm not even sure what it is that bothers me about Luna cutting her hair. Is it that she's copying me? Is it that she reminds me of how I was at that age, and being reminded of that bothers me? Is it that she looks so unlike herself now? She looks so much older now with her hair short.
I tried drawing a picture:
It's not that the haircut makes her look old, really. I guess it finally makes her look her age... she's always looked so young for a twelve-year-old.
I tried drawing a picture:
I tried to tell Erin about Luna cutting her hair.
Jack Q: Luna cut her hair.
swerin: good for her?
swerin: kid looked like she could use a haircut I guess?
swerin: wasn't her hair like butt length before
Jack Q: No, you don't get it. She cut her hair herself.
swerin: parents can afford to pay you to be friends with her but are too cheap to take their kid to get her hair cut?
Jack Q: She cut her hair herself in the middle of the night.
Jack Q: Doesn't this remind you of anybody?
swerin: oh
swerin: yeah but
swerin: lots of middle school kids have a "cut their own hair" phase it doesn't necessarily have anything to do with you??
swerin: i mean did you even tell her that story
Jack Q: Yes.
Jack Q: I'm sure she did it to copy me.
Jack Q: Come on! I even did this around the same time of year in seventh grade!
Jack Q: There is no way that's coincidence.
Jack Q: But what does she mean by it?
Jack Q: Is she trying to send me some sort of message? I don't get it.
swerin: imitation is the sincerest form of flattery my friend
Jack Q: I don't feel very flattered.
swerin: doesn't change the fact that she probably meant it as flattery
(She logged out after this last message without saying goodbye.)
swerin: good for her?
swerin: kid looked like she could use a haircut I guess?
swerin: wasn't her hair like butt length before
Jack Q: No, you don't get it. She cut her hair herself.
swerin: parents can afford to pay you to be friends with her but are too cheap to take their kid to get her hair cut?
Jack Q: She cut her hair herself in the middle of the night.
Jack Q: Doesn't this remind you of anybody?
swerin: oh
swerin: yeah but
swerin: lots of middle school kids have a "cut their own hair" phase it doesn't necessarily have anything to do with you??
swerin: i mean did you even tell her that story
Jack Q: Yes.
Jack Q: I'm sure she did it to copy me.
Jack Q: Come on! I even did this around the same time of year in seventh grade!
Jack Q: There is no way that's coincidence.
Jack Q: But what does she mean by it?
Jack Q: Is she trying to send me some sort of message? I don't get it.
swerin: imitation is the sincerest form of flattery my friend
Jack Q: I don't feel very flattered.
swerin: doesn't change the fact that she probably meant it as flattery
(She logged out after this last message without saying goodbye.)
Luna cut her hair.
Chopped it all off to just above her shoulders. By herself, she says.
It makes her look older. It's strange...
She seems really proud of herself.
Huh, what does this remind me of, I wonder?
Sunday, September 23, 2012
I don't know who I can turn to anymore...
swerin: dude. you okay?
swerin: i just took a look at your blog
swerin: seems like stuff is going pretty badly for you
Jack Q: Yeah...
Jack Q: I just don't know how to end this.
Jack Q: You were right, Erin. I can't do this Luna thing anymore.
swerin: oh that's one i could stand to hear again
swerin: "you were right, erin"
swerin: music to my ears
swerin: figuratively speaking
swerin: anyway im sorry this is hard for you man
swerin: but really there's no way this wasn't gonna be difficult
swerin: and the longer you stay involved in this the more difficult its gonna be to end it
swerin: you dug yourself into this one im sorry to say
Jack Q: That really isn't what I need to hear right now.
swerin: what do you want me to tell you, dude?
swerin: you didn't take my advice way back when. if you had you wouldn't be in this situation right now
swerin: you made the choice to handle this by yourself
swerin: so now you're on your own
swerin: theres really nothing i can do about that
swerin: i just took a look at your blog
swerin: seems like stuff is going pretty badly for you
Jack Q: Yeah...
Jack Q: I just don't know how to end this.
Jack Q: You were right, Erin. I can't do this Luna thing anymore.
swerin: oh that's one i could stand to hear again
swerin: "you were right, erin"
swerin: music to my ears
swerin: figuratively speaking
swerin: anyway im sorry this is hard for you man
swerin: but really there's no way this wasn't gonna be difficult
swerin: and the longer you stay involved in this the more difficult its gonna be to end it
swerin: you dug yourself into this one im sorry to say
Jack Q: That really isn't what I need to hear right now.
swerin: what do you want me to tell you, dude?
swerin: you didn't take my advice way back when. if you had you wouldn't be in this situation right now
swerin: you made the choice to handle this by yourself
swerin: so now you're on your own
swerin: theres really nothing i can do about that
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Sometimes I think I ought to just quit my job. Stop accepting payment. Come clean with Luna. Maybe she wouldn't want me to be friends with her after that, and I wouldn't blame her. Maybe she would forgive me. I don't know.
In the end, though, I don't think I have the courage to do that.
I would talk to Dad about this, except that he's one of the people who talked me into taking this job in the first place. How can I trust him to give me good advice on this?
I can't talk to anybody but Erin, and she hasn't been online at all since Saturday night. Her Skype status says she's too busy with college right now and doesn't want to be disturbed.
I feel so lonely...
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Maybe I've just been down lately. Maybe everything is really fine and I've just been overreacting. I just...
I don't think I can do this anymore.
Erin is right. It isn't fair to Luna to pretend to be her friend.
I need to find some way to tell her. But how can I tell her when I know how much it could hurt her?
I don't know what to do.
I don't think I can do this anymore.
Erin is right. It isn't fair to Luna to pretend to be her friend.
I need to find some way to tell her. But how can I tell her when I know how much it could hurt her?
I don't know what to do.
"The Blog of Jack Q., Friend-for-Hire"
So I've changed my blog title.
"Jack's Blog" was hardly very descriptive to begin with.
I think this new one says a lot more about me.
"Jack's Blog" was hardly very descriptive to begin with.
I think this new one says a lot more about me.
I usually feel better about things in the morning, but I don't really feel any better right now. I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach whenever I think about having to meet with Donna today, and having to hang out with Luna later in the afternoon.
In my previous posts I've been reiterating that everything's fine, but I don't know if that's true anymore. I don't know if that was ever true. It's been months since I felt like everything between Luna and I really was fine.
Sometimes I wish I could just quit the job — it is a job, after all, as Erin keeps reminding me — and be free. Even loneliness would be better than an unhappy friendship.
But I know I could never work up the nerve.
I'd be disappointing my mother.
I'd be disappointing Luna's parents.
I'd be disappointing Luna herself.
I think I'd even be disappointing me.
In my previous posts I've been reiterating that everything's fine, but I don't know if that's true anymore. I don't know if that was ever true. It's been months since I felt like everything between Luna and I really was fine.
Sometimes I wish I could just quit the job — it is a job, after all, as Erin keeps reminding me — and be free. Even loneliness would be better than an unhappy friendship.
But I know I could never work up the nerve.
I'd be disappointing my mother.
I'd be disappointing Luna's parents.
I'd be disappointing Luna herself.
I think I'd even be disappointing me.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Erin just got online to reply to me.
(I decided to take out the timestamps from the chatlog because they just make it harder to read. Maybe later I'll go back and edit out the other ones.)
swerin: jack, it is a job.
swerin: you're making sure luna is okay. that's your job. correct?
swerin: you get paid to do that.
Jack Q: That's different. It only felt like work at first. Now we're friends.
Jack Q: I'm just saying that having to report on her wellbeing every night is making blogging feel like a job. And, honestly, I think it may be negatively impacting my relationship with Luna.
Jack Q: Whenever I hang out with her now I feel like I'm taking mental notes on her behavior, looking out for anything abnormal. It's like a chore. And I think she can tell I'm having less fun.
swerin: i don't give a damn what it feels like
swerin: work is what it IS
swerin: if u werent keeping an eye on her like this before then all that means is that up till now you've been a shitty worker
Jack Q: Technically, I'm getting paid to hang out with her, not to keep an eye on her.
swerin: you're getting paid to be friends with her
swerin: friends look out for each other jack
swerin: and you're under particular obligation to do so in this case because it's a job
swerin: she's your responsibility. and if she's too much responsibility, then you talk to her folks about it.
swerin: end story.
Jack Q: I've got this under control, I guess. It's just...
Jack Q: It doesn't feel like a real friendship anymore.
Jack Q: It's starting to feel forced.
swerin: that's how it always was jack
swerin: whether you felt it or not
swerin: i gotta go
I don't know how to feel about this anymore. I really do care about Luna, and I want her to be happy, it's just... being with her doesn't make me happy like it used to. Is that because she's been feeling down more often lately? Am I just being selfish? I know this really isn't about me. Even my own blog isn't about me. I feel like I'm a secondary character in my own story...
I need to sleep on this. Maybe I'll feel better in the morning. I just... I don't know anymore.
(I decided to take out the timestamps from the chatlog because they just make it harder to read. Maybe later I'll go back and edit out the other ones.)
swerin: jack, it is a job.
swerin: you're making sure luna is okay. that's your job. correct?
swerin: you get paid to do that.
Jack Q: That's different. It only felt like work at first. Now we're friends.
Jack Q: I'm just saying that having to report on her wellbeing every night is making blogging feel like a job. And, honestly, I think it may be negatively impacting my relationship with Luna.
Jack Q: Whenever I hang out with her now I feel like I'm taking mental notes on her behavior, looking out for anything abnormal. It's like a chore. And I think she can tell I'm having less fun.
swerin: i don't give a damn what it feels like
swerin: work is what it IS
swerin: if u werent keeping an eye on her like this before then all that means is that up till now you've been a shitty worker
Jack Q: Technically, I'm getting paid to hang out with her, not to keep an eye on her.
swerin: you're getting paid to be friends with her
swerin: friends look out for each other jack
swerin: and you're under particular obligation to do so in this case because it's a job
swerin: she's your responsibility. and if she's too much responsibility, then you talk to her folks about it.
swerin: end story.
Jack Q: I've got this under control, I guess. It's just...
Jack Q: It doesn't feel like a real friendship anymore.
Jack Q: It's starting to feel forced.
swerin: that's how it always was jack
swerin: whether you felt it or not
swerin: i gotta go
I don't know how to feel about this anymore. I really do care about Luna, and I want her to be happy, it's just... being with her doesn't make me happy like it used to. Is that because she's been feeling down more often lately? Am I just being selfish? I know this really isn't about me. Even my own blog isn't about me. I feel like I'm a secondary character in my own story...
I need to sleep on this. Maybe I'll feel better in the morning. I just... I don't know anymore.
To Erin, to clear up some things.
You aren't online so I can't Skype you back.
So, in answer to your questions:
So, in answer to your questions:
- No, Luna hasn't been "acting nuts" lately, as you put it. She seems perfectly sane to me, if a bit sad sometimes.
- This feeds into your next question/my next answer. Yes, when she seems unhappy it's generally at night/in the evening. Like I said, I think it's just because of her insomnia.
- I am still talking to her almost every night to help her with that. We usually don't talk for very long anymore, though, because it seems she's having an easier time sleeping now that school has started up again. (I expect school wears her out.)
- You wanted to know why I've been blogging less lately? Well, I guess it's less fun when I feel obligated to do so. It's not fun anymore. It feels like a job, or something.
Friday, September 14, 2012
Luna Report - 14 Sep '12
We didn't end up going to the movies. Nothing good was playing. Luna kept telling me about how she's making friends with this girl in her grade. I said that was good because she'll finally have a friend her own age, and then she got a bit cross with me (I think — I assume that's why she hasn't been on Skype at all this evening).
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Luna Report - 13 Sep '12
I missed a couple days because I just haven't felt like blogging lately.
Luna's fine, Erin, don't freak out at me or anything.
Luna's fine, Erin, don't freak out at me or anything.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Luna Report - 10 Sep '12
Luna seemed very down today. She didn't even really seem to want to talk to me.
I tried to cheer her up by reading to her, but it felt sort of useless. I'm not even sure she was paying attention. I wish I could be of more help...
I tried to cheer her up by reading to her, but it felt sort of useless. I'm not even sure she was paying attention. I wish I could be of more help...
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Luna Report - 9 Sep '12
Met up with Donna for lunch. Since Luna's behavior has been fairly normal this week, I didn't think I needed to report anything to her, and I didn't.
Donna told me she thinks she heard Luna sleepwalking a couple nights ago, but she can't be sure; Luna could have just woken up and gotten out of bed in the middle of the night. Donna says she didn't leave her room, though, which might appear to support the sleepwalking hypothesis. (Remember, Luna locks her door at night. I doubt she'd be able to unlock it while asleep.)
Apart from that, nothing too exciting to report. Luna and I are planning a trip to the movies sometime this week. We haven't gone to see anything in theaters for a while. Should be fun.
Donna told me she thinks she heard Luna sleepwalking a couple nights ago, but she can't be sure; Luna could have just woken up and gotten out of bed in the middle of the night. Donna says she didn't leave her room, though, which might appear to support the sleepwalking hypothesis. (Remember, Luna locks her door at night. I doubt she'd be able to unlock it while asleep.)
Apart from that, nothing too exciting to report. Luna and I are planning a trip to the movies sometime this week. We haven't gone to see anything in theaters for a while. Should be fun.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Luna Report - 8 Sep '12
I'm sorry I missed a day.
There's honestly been nothing new to report. We've had a few conversations, nothing unusual or worth noting. She came over to my house yesterday and we baked brownies. Luna's had the usual amount of trouble getting to sleep, but hasn't blown up at me about it or said anything especially weird to me because of it. Everything's fine.
There's honestly been nothing new to report. We've had a few conversations, nothing unusual or worth noting. She came over to my house yesterday and we baked brownies. Luna's had the usual amount of trouble getting to sleep, but hasn't blown up at me about it or said anything especially weird to me because of it. Everything's fine.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Luna Report - 6 Sep '12
Luna told me about school today. She says it's going alright. She even says a nice girl invited her to sit with her at lunch today.
Also, apparently she checked out Hamlet from the school library. (When pressed, she revealed that she actually swiped it from the library, since the librarian claimed she was too young to be reading Hamlet.) I expect she wants to read it so she'll get the Hamlet references in Opheliac, not that there are terribly many Hamlet references in that album (it's mostly the title track, if I remember correctly). I told her that if she wants to talk about it with me, I'd be happy to. I hope she enjoys it and that it doesn't go over her head too much.
Luna seemed very tired. I wonder if she got an alright sleep the night before? It seems doubtful. I didn't ask, though.
Luna called me this afternoon. I missed the call, but the voicemail she left went something like, "Hi Jack, um... [long pause] sorry I didn't talk last night, I just... [another pause] I wanted to, but they didn't want me to. Sorry."
I guess she means her parents kicked her off the computer.
In any case, I expect she'll be online tonight.
I guess she means her parents kicked her off the computer.
In any case, I expect she'll be online tonight.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Luna Report - 5 Sep '12
Luna didn't Skype me at all tonight. I hope nothing is wrong. I sent her a message but she hasn't replied. I guess she just isn't online, for whatever reason?
On (Not) Surviving Middle School
So when I was a little kid, my mother used to pick out all my clothes for me. That's not unusual at that age, I suppose; we're talking really little, before I went to school. However, the clothes she picked weren't the sort of clothes I think I'd have picked for myself, given the choice. They were pastel-colored, often pink, almost invariably frilly. She rarely dressed me in pants, preferring to put me in dresses or skirts. Sometimes she picked out matching outfits for the two of us (or as close as you can come to matching outfits for a three-year-old and a thirty-year-old).
Two little boys lived across the street from us. One was my age and the other was a couple years older. I was fascinated with them, because they got to do all this stuff I couldn't do. They were always climbing trees and running around and playing with sticks like they were swords. They played rough sometimes and got their clothes ripped or dirty. If I'd ever messed up my clothes like that, I've no doubt I would have been put in time-out. The littlest boy had a trike; his older brother had a bike. I used to watch them riding around and wish I could join them. Once I asked my mother if I could get a bike or a trike like the boys across the street had. "Don't be silly, Jackie," she told me. "You'd fall and skin your knees. You wouldn't like that."
She was always doing things like that; denying me things I wanted by telling me I didn't want them.
When I started kindergarten, there was a little girl with short hair, like a boy's hair. I wanted to have my hair cut like hers, but my mother told me I couldn't. "Oh, Jackie, she probably had to have her head shaved because she caught lice."
Maybe that little girl did have lice, but she also got to do other things I didn't get to do. She wore pants and t-shirts every day and never wore pink and roughhoused around like a boy. I had always been told I couldn't play rough, so instead I stood in the corner of the schoolyard trying not to get in trouble. I liked watching that girl, though. I was sort of in awe of her yet confused by her at the same time, because I didn't understand how she could be a girl and yet act like a boy. My mother taught me that boys acted a certain way and girls acted a certain way and that was just how it was, but this little girl seemed to stand in contradiction to all that.
In retrospect, maybe that girl was my first crush. I can't remember my feelings toward her clearly enough to be sure.
I was quiet in school. I was too shy to speak up, I think, because my mother always told me what my own opinions were. The problem is, when someone tells you something often enough — no matter how ridiculous it is, no matter if you start off knowing it to be false — eventually you start believing them. On top of that, I was a little kid, and she was my mother, and I trusted her in the way that little kids always trust their mothers.
Most of my teachers didn't seem to notice how subdued I was. They probably liked it; it made it easier for them to do their jobs. However, I did have a few teachers come up to me in private to talk to me, especially as I got older. The speech was always the same: "You're a smart girl, Jackie, why aren't you participating more in class? You could do so much if you pushed yourself a little harder."
Eventually I started to listen to them. I got more confident talking in class, and talking to other kids, voicing opinions that were mine and not my mother's. I even started to act a little more tomboyish, but only when I was safely out from under my mother's gaze. I wouldn't have dared to misbehave in her presence, and in her mind doing anything that didn't befit a young lady was misbehaving.
Really, my mother's problem is that she expects me to be just like her. I don't think she has anything in particular against tomboys, or masculine women, or whatever it is that I am. She just doesn't like the idea of me being one, because she wants me to be her little Mini-Me.
I was always small for my age as a kid. I think because I was small and kept to myself and wore frilly things and had ribbons in my hair, the other kids in my class thought of me as being kind of a baby. Even for the first year of middle school, when most of the other kids were starting to hit puberty, I still looked like a little girl. I got treated like I was younger than I was.
Right around the time I started seventh grade, though, I suddenly hit a growth spurt. I went from being short for my age to being tall for my age remarkably quickly. I didn't look like a little girl anymore; I wasn't "cute", I was an awkward beanpole of a kid. None of my clothes fit.
I started to get uncomfortable with the way I looked. There's no way for me to accurately convey the feeling except that it felt like my inner self and my outer self didn't match, and had never matched. In fact, being tall and skinny was the only thing I really liked about the way I looked now, because I didn't look like a cute little girl anymore.
Sometimes I got almost panicky over my appearance; I felt like I was being trapped in a shell that didn't belong to me, and I just had to break out or I'd suffocate. That's how I felt the night I grabbed a pair of scissors from the kitchen and cut my hair as short as I could manage it.
I had always had long, curly hair. My mother liked to tie it up in pigtails for me. People complimented me on my hair often. I thought that because my mother liked my hair and other people liked my hair, I had to like my hair too.
I don't really remember actually cutting my hair: I just remember looking in the mirror when it was all done and feeling like a completely new person. It was strange and exhilarating all at once. The sense of excitement I felt was like getting a new present and thinking of all the things you might be able to do with it, all the as-yet-untapped potential.
The following morning, I was still feeling excited from having cut my hair — I guess I was riding out some sort of adrenaline high. I told my parents that I didn't want to wear girly clothes anymore, that I wanted to keep my hair short, and that I wanted them to call me Jack instead of Jackie. I told them this as they were sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast. They just stared at me the whole time like I had flown in from Neptune.
Neither of them put up an argument, though, and I headed off to school in the least feminine clothes I owned (which, unfortunately, was skinny jeans and a ratty old sweatshirt of my dad's that had shrunk in the wash). I felt pretty damn pleased with myself.
People stared at me all day long during school. I interpreted the stares as being of admiration or respect. When people called me Jackie, I proudly corrected them and told them to call me Jack. I got a lot of weird looks, but, like with my parents, no one protested.
No one protested at all the first day. Then the protesting began in earnest.
By day 2, concerned teachers were calling my parents to ask them about me. My dad, I think, handled most of the calls; I'm not really sure, because neither of my parents wanted to talk to me about it. Kids in school started bullying me and calling me names; "dyke" was among the politer things I was called.
The worst, though, was my mother.
Initially, she acted as though she had no problem with my decision. She was never supportive, but she didn't give me a hard time over it, until a couple days in. I don't even remember what started it, but she just blew up at me.
The gist of her argument went like this: Why couldn't I just be a normal girl? Why did I have to be so childish instead of acting like a mature young lady? Was this all just a ploy for attention? Did I need psychiatric help? What on earth had gotten into me that I would want to cut off all my beautiful hair?
I've never seen my mother so upset in my life as she was that day, and I hope to never see her that way again.
My dad tried to smooth things over, and he succeeded to some extend. I don't know what he said to my mother, but he got her to agree to letting me wear my hair short and wear less feminine clothes if I desired. The one thing she never agreed to do was to call me Jack; even though my dad eventually got in the habit of dropping the -ie, my mother still calls me Jackie and seems to have no intentions of changing that anytime soon.
I left middle school about a month later when the teasing and namecalling escalated to physical violence. A group of older boys had taken to slamming me into lockers, and when I tried to stand up to them the leader punched me in the nose. From then on, instead of slamming me into the lockers, those boys would just hit me when they saw me. It didn't take long for my parents to notice the bruises — I'm sure they noticed right away, actually, in which case I suppose it took a few days for them to decide to do anything about it. They pulled me out of school. My dad began homeschooling me not long after.
That's as much of this story as I think I'll ever be willing to tell.
Two little boys lived across the street from us. One was my age and the other was a couple years older. I was fascinated with them, because they got to do all this stuff I couldn't do. They were always climbing trees and running around and playing with sticks like they were swords. They played rough sometimes and got their clothes ripped or dirty. If I'd ever messed up my clothes like that, I've no doubt I would have been put in time-out. The littlest boy had a trike; his older brother had a bike. I used to watch them riding around and wish I could join them. Once I asked my mother if I could get a bike or a trike like the boys across the street had. "Don't be silly, Jackie," she told me. "You'd fall and skin your knees. You wouldn't like that."
She was always doing things like that; denying me things I wanted by telling me I didn't want them.
When I started kindergarten, there was a little girl with short hair, like a boy's hair. I wanted to have my hair cut like hers, but my mother told me I couldn't. "Oh, Jackie, she probably had to have her head shaved because she caught lice."
Maybe that little girl did have lice, but she also got to do other things I didn't get to do. She wore pants and t-shirts every day and never wore pink and roughhoused around like a boy. I had always been told I couldn't play rough, so instead I stood in the corner of the schoolyard trying not to get in trouble. I liked watching that girl, though. I was sort of in awe of her yet confused by her at the same time, because I didn't understand how she could be a girl and yet act like a boy. My mother taught me that boys acted a certain way and girls acted a certain way and that was just how it was, but this little girl seemed to stand in contradiction to all that.
In retrospect, maybe that girl was my first crush. I can't remember my feelings toward her clearly enough to be sure.
I was quiet in school. I was too shy to speak up, I think, because my mother always told me what my own opinions were. The problem is, when someone tells you something often enough — no matter how ridiculous it is, no matter if you start off knowing it to be false — eventually you start believing them. On top of that, I was a little kid, and she was my mother, and I trusted her in the way that little kids always trust their mothers.
Most of my teachers didn't seem to notice how subdued I was. They probably liked it; it made it easier for them to do their jobs. However, I did have a few teachers come up to me in private to talk to me, especially as I got older. The speech was always the same: "You're a smart girl, Jackie, why aren't you participating more in class? You could do so much if you pushed yourself a little harder."
Eventually I started to listen to them. I got more confident talking in class, and talking to other kids, voicing opinions that were mine and not my mother's. I even started to act a little more tomboyish, but only when I was safely out from under my mother's gaze. I wouldn't have dared to misbehave in her presence, and in her mind doing anything that didn't befit a young lady was misbehaving.
Really, my mother's problem is that she expects me to be just like her. I don't think she has anything in particular against tomboys, or masculine women, or whatever it is that I am. She just doesn't like the idea of me being one, because she wants me to be her little Mini-Me.
I was always small for my age as a kid. I think because I was small and kept to myself and wore frilly things and had ribbons in my hair, the other kids in my class thought of me as being kind of a baby. Even for the first year of middle school, when most of the other kids were starting to hit puberty, I still looked like a little girl. I got treated like I was younger than I was.
Right around the time I started seventh grade, though, I suddenly hit a growth spurt. I went from being short for my age to being tall for my age remarkably quickly. I didn't look like a little girl anymore; I wasn't "cute", I was an awkward beanpole of a kid. None of my clothes fit.
I started to get uncomfortable with the way I looked. There's no way for me to accurately convey the feeling except that it felt like my inner self and my outer self didn't match, and had never matched. In fact, being tall and skinny was the only thing I really liked about the way I looked now, because I didn't look like a cute little girl anymore.
Sometimes I got almost panicky over my appearance; I felt like I was being trapped in a shell that didn't belong to me, and I just had to break out or I'd suffocate. That's how I felt the night I grabbed a pair of scissors from the kitchen and cut my hair as short as I could manage it.
I had always had long, curly hair. My mother liked to tie it up in pigtails for me. People complimented me on my hair often. I thought that because my mother liked my hair and other people liked my hair, I had to like my hair too.
I don't really remember actually cutting my hair: I just remember looking in the mirror when it was all done and feeling like a completely new person. It was strange and exhilarating all at once. The sense of excitement I felt was like getting a new present and thinking of all the things you might be able to do with it, all the as-yet-untapped potential.
The following morning, I was still feeling excited from having cut my hair — I guess I was riding out some sort of adrenaline high. I told my parents that I didn't want to wear girly clothes anymore, that I wanted to keep my hair short, and that I wanted them to call me Jack instead of Jackie. I told them this as they were sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast. They just stared at me the whole time like I had flown in from Neptune.
Neither of them put up an argument, though, and I headed off to school in the least feminine clothes I owned (which, unfortunately, was skinny jeans and a ratty old sweatshirt of my dad's that had shrunk in the wash). I felt pretty damn pleased with myself.
People stared at me all day long during school. I interpreted the stares as being of admiration or respect. When people called me Jackie, I proudly corrected them and told them to call me Jack. I got a lot of weird looks, but, like with my parents, no one protested.
No one protested at all the first day. Then the protesting began in earnest.
By day 2, concerned teachers were calling my parents to ask them about me. My dad, I think, handled most of the calls; I'm not really sure, because neither of my parents wanted to talk to me about it. Kids in school started bullying me and calling me names; "dyke" was among the politer things I was called.
The worst, though, was my mother.
Initially, she acted as though she had no problem with my decision. She was never supportive, but she didn't give me a hard time over it, until a couple days in. I don't even remember what started it, but she just blew up at me.
The gist of her argument went like this: Why couldn't I just be a normal girl? Why did I have to be so childish instead of acting like a mature young lady? Was this all just a ploy for attention? Did I need psychiatric help? What on earth had gotten into me that I would want to cut off all my beautiful hair?
I've never seen my mother so upset in my life as she was that day, and I hope to never see her that way again.
My dad tried to smooth things over, and he succeeded to some extend. I don't know what he said to my mother, but he got her to agree to letting me wear my hair short and wear less feminine clothes if I desired. The one thing she never agreed to do was to call me Jack; even though my dad eventually got in the habit of dropping the -ie, my mother still calls me Jackie and seems to have no intentions of changing that anytime soon.
I left middle school about a month later when the teasing and namecalling escalated to physical violence. A group of older boys had taken to slamming me into lockers, and when I tried to stand up to them the leader punched me in the nose. From then on, instead of slamming me into the lockers, those boys would just hit me when they saw me. It didn't take long for my parents to notice the bruises — I'm sure they noticed right away, actually, in which case I suppose it took a few days for them to decide to do anything about it. They pulled me out of school. My dad began homeschooling me not long after.
That's as much of this story as I think I'll ever be willing to tell.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Luna Report - 4 Sep '12
I didn't ask Luna about the sleepwalking. I did ask her about why her parents wanted to move to the city in the first place, though, and Luna was able to shed some light on that. Apparently before Luna was born Donna and Matt were in a band, and they had to quit the band when they had her. The band wanted to get back together, so that's why they moved. Luna suspects they moved back upstate because it wasn't working out. That sounds like a solid theory to me.
Luna and I met up this afternoon to go get ice cream, in honor of her last day of summer vacation. She seemed kind of down, probably because... well, it's her last day of summer vacation. This evening when I talked to her she seemed anxious about school.
"Everyone treats me like a baby," she said to me.
I asked her what she meant, and she explained that her classmates often treated her like she was younger than them. (I suspect this is because Luna does look younger than her age, and in some ways acts younger than her age — though less so now than when I first met her.)
"It'll be better this year," I told her, trying to cheer her up. "You're older now, and they're all going to see that and treat you differently."
"They'll be older too," Luna pointed out.
The conversation went on in this vein for a little while; I kept trying to look on the bright side, but Luna seemed determined to look at the gloomier side of things.
"Look," I said finally, "I'm the wrong person to be giving advice on this anyway. When people picked on me in middle school, I started being homeschooled. I'm a quitter."
"People picked on you in middle school?" Luna sounded intrigued. "Why?"
"Because I wasn't like them. Middle schoolers will pick on anyone they think is too different."
I didn't really want to elaborate, but eventually she pressed me for it and I ended up telling her the whole story of how I didn't make it through public middle school.
That story is too long to put in this post. I'm going to write it up separately and post it in a bit. I guess I've always sort of wanted to write down that story anyway, so it may as well be now.
Luna and I met up this afternoon to go get ice cream, in honor of her last day of summer vacation. She seemed kind of down, probably because... well, it's her last day of summer vacation. This evening when I talked to her she seemed anxious about school.
"Everyone treats me like a baby," she said to me.
I asked her what she meant, and she explained that her classmates often treated her like she was younger than them. (I suspect this is because Luna does look younger than her age, and in some ways acts younger than her age — though less so now than when I first met her.)
"It'll be better this year," I told her, trying to cheer her up. "You're older now, and they're all going to see that and treat you differently."
"They'll be older too," Luna pointed out.
The conversation went on in this vein for a little while; I kept trying to look on the bright side, but Luna seemed determined to look at the gloomier side of things.
"Look," I said finally, "I'm the wrong person to be giving advice on this anyway. When people picked on me in middle school, I started being homeschooled. I'm a quitter."
"People picked on you in middle school?" Luna sounded intrigued. "Why?"
"Because I wasn't like them. Middle schoolers will pick on anyone they think is too different."
I didn't really want to elaborate, but eventually she pressed me for it and I ended up telling her the whole story of how I didn't make it through public middle school.
That story is too long to put in this post. I'm going to write it up separately and post it in a bit. I guess I've always sort of wanted to write down that story anyway, so it may as well be now.
Sleepwalking
Donna emailed me this morning and asked me if I could call her so she could explain the sleepwalking thing over the phone.
I just got off the phone with her. This is what she told me:
Back when the family lived in Manhattan, Donna and Matt first noticed that Luna seemed to be an occasional sleepwalker. They heard her stumbling around in her room late at night on a couple occasions. Neither of them was worried about it until one night Luna sleepwalked out of her bedroom, out the apartment door, and down to the lobby before another resident in the building spotted her and woke her up.
Part of the reason for the move back upstate was because Donna and Matt were worried about what might have happened had Luna not been woken up; she could have walked right out into the busy Manhattan streets. Donna admitted that there were also other reasons for moving; she said that she and Matt had had plans that didn't come to fruition and so there wasn't really any reason for them to remain in NYC. Luna's sleepwalking incident was simply the final straw.
Donna says that now they ask Luna to lock her door before going to bed so if she does sleepwalk, she can't leave her room.
Luna isn't aware that she sleepwalks, apparently; even when she's woken up while sleepwalking, she never remembers the incident afterwards. Donna says they haven't told Luna about it because they don't want her to feel like something's wrong with her, or like it was her fault that they moved back upstate. (Donna stressed again that most of the reason for the move had nothing to do with Luna's sleepwalking.)
So now this leaves me with two questions:
I just got off the phone with her. This is what she told me:
Back when the family lived in Manhattan, Donna and Matt first noticed that Luna seemed to be an occasional sleepwalker. They heard her stumbling around in her room late at night on a couple occasions. Neither of them was worried about it until one night Luna sleepwalked out of her bedroom, out the apartment door, and down to the lobby before another resident in the building spotted her and woke her up.
Part of the reason for the move back upstate was because Donna and Matt were worried about what might have happened had Luna not been woken up; she could have walked right out into the busy Manhattan streets. Donna admitted that there were also other reasons for moving; she said that she and Matt had had plans that didn't come to fruition and so there wasn't really any reason for them to remain in NYC. Luna's sleepwalking incident was simply the final straw.
Donna says that now they ask Luna to lock her door before going to bed so if she does sleepwalk, she can't leave her room.
Luna isn't aware that she sleepwalks, apparently; even when she's woken up while sleepwalking, she never remembers the incident afterwards. Donna says they haven't told Luna about it because they don't want her to feel like something's wrong with her, or like it was her fault that they moved back upstate. (Donna stressed again that most of the reason for the move had nothing to do with Luna's sleepwalking.)
So now this leaves me with two questions:
- Should I tell Luna about the sleepwalking?
- Should I ask Luna or Donna about their other reasons for moving back upstate?
Monday, September 3, 2012
Luna Report - 3 Sep '12
Today was my first day of school, but Luna doesn't start until Wednesday. Apparently I neglected to tell her that I had school and thus was not going to be able to come over this afternoon. She was upset with me when I first logged onto Skype, but she got over it quickly enough.
Luna told me she wants to take up blogging again. I asked her what she would blog about, and she said she'd probably blog about "all the stuff I don't like to talk about out loud". I guess that's not too different from a lot of my blogging, so I can't judge.
I asked her if I could see her blog. She gave me the link. (Here it is.) There's nothing on it but a couple short text posts and some cat pictures. She hasn't updated since February.
Luna told me she was nervous about going to sleep because last night she had a nightmare. She refused to tell me what it was.
Luna told me she wants to take up blogging again. I asked her what she would blog about, and she said she'd probably blog about "all the stuff I don't like to talk about out loud". I guess that's not too different from a lot of my blogging, so I can't judge.
I asked her if I could see her blog. She gave me the link. (Here it is.) There's nothing on it but a couple short text posts and some cat pictures. She hasn't updated since February.
Luna told me she was nervous about going to sleep because last night she had a nightmare. She refused to tell me what it was.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Luna Report - 2 Sep '12
Luna seems perfectly fine and not at all suicidal.
That's all I feel like writing tonight.
That's all I feel like writing tonight.
Come see our girls, crazy girls...
[9/2/12 7:38:22 PM] swerin: SUICIDE. SHE MEANS SHE WANTS TO KILL HERSELF.
[9/2/12 7:38:28 PM] swerin: YOU GOTTA TELL HER PARENTS ASAP.
[9/2/12 7:40:11 PM] Jack Q: Whoa, what?
[9/2/12 7:40:37 PM] swerin: how thick are you dude? she says she wants to end it all or whatever, she's referring to suicide. you dont play around with that shit you tell somebody right away. RIGHT AWAY
[9/2/12 7:40:40 PM] swerin: jfc man why do i have to explain this
[9/2/12 7:41:13 PM] Jack Q: How do you know she meant that?
[9/2/12 7:41:21 PM] Jack Q: Maybe she meant that she wishes she was able to stop her sleep-related problems — insomnia, nightmares, etc. Maybe this has to do with the sleepwalking thing I haven't heard about yet.
[9/2/12 7:41:45 PM] swerin: oh i bet it does. she wishes she was able to stop those problems and i bet the only way she can think of to stop them is by offing herself.
[9/2/12 7:42:02 PM] swerin: talk to her parents AS SOON AS YOU POSSIBLY CAN. preferably now.
[9/2/12 7:42:46 PM] Jack Q: Don't you think this is a little hasty? We don't want to alarm them over one comment she made.
[9/2/12 7:43:00 PM] Jack Q: She's seemed perfectly fine the past couple days.
[9/2/12 7:43:38 PM] Jack Q: Look, I promise you this: the second she says anything about suicide again I will call her parents and let them know.
[9/2/12 7:43:56 PM] Jack Q: I just don't think one comment she made (an ambiguous one, too) is much cause for alarm.
[9/2/12 7:45:43 PM] swerin: okay
[9/2/12 7:45:57 PM] swerin: im agreeing to this only bc i cant actually call lunas parents myself
[9/2/12 7:46:09 PM] swerin: and because it was u who heard it not me so i dont actually know how it was said
[9/2/12 7:46:17 PM] swerin: basically im trusting ur judgement here
[9/2/12 7:46:23 PM] swerin: so don't let me down
[9/2/12 7:46:47 PM] Jack Q: I promise I won't.
[9/2/12 7:38:28 PM] swerin: YOU GOTTA TELL HER PARENTS ASAP.
[9/2/12 7:40:11 PM] Jack Q: Whoa, what?
[9/2/12 7:40:37 PM] swerin: how thick are you dude? she says she wants to end it all or whatever, she's referring to suicide. you dont play around with that shit you tell somebody right away. RIGHT AWAY
[9/2/12 7:40:40 PM] swerin: jfc man why do i have to explain this
[9/2/12 7:41:13 PM] Jack Q: How do you know she meant that?
[9/2/12 7:41:21 PM] Jack Q: Maybe she meant that she wishes she was able to stop her sleep-related problems — insomnia, nightmares, etc. Maybe this has to do with the sleepwalking thing I haven't heard about yet.
[9/2/12 7:41:45 PM] swerin: oh i bet it does. she wishes she was able to stop those problems and i bet the only way she can think of to stop them is by offing herself.
[9/2/12 7:42:02 PM] swerin: talk to her parents AS SOON AS YOU POSSIBLY CAN. preferably now.
[9/2/12 7:42:46 PM] Jack Q: Don't you think this is a little hasty? We don't want to alarm them over one comment she made.
[9/2/12 7:43:00 PM] Jack Q: She's seemed perfectly fine the past couple days.
[9/2/12 7:43:38 PM] Jack Q: Look, I promise you this: the second she says anything about suicide again I will call her parents and let them know.
[9/2/12 7:43:56 PM] Jack Q: I just don't think one comment she made (an ambiguous one, too) is much cause for alarm.
[9/2/12 7:45:43 PM] swerin: okay
[9/2/12 7:45:57 PM] swerin: im agreeing to this only bc i cant actually call lunas parents myself
[9/2/12 7:46:09 PM] swerin: and because it was u who heard it not me so i dont actually know how it was said
[9/2/12 7:46:17 PM] swerin: basically im trusting ur judgement here
[9/2/12 7:46:23 PM] swerin: so don't let me down
[9/2/12 7:46:47 PM] Jack Q: I promise I won't.
Is She Promised To The Night
[9/2/12 5:14:19 PM] swerin: (clears throat) okay im giving u permission to post this and any future chatlogs which pertain to luna unless i tell u u can't
[9/2/12 5:14:28 PM] swerin: so b4 we get onto the more important question of whether or not u liked the lorax i need to ask you something
[9/2/12 5:14:40 PM] swerin: u had that one post where u talked about luna being like two different people depending on the time of day? where like she's all weird at night and gets mad at u over stupid things and acts anxious
[9/2/12 5:14:56 PM] swerin: how often does she act like that? bc it sounds like she hasn't done that for the past two days at least
[9/2/12 5:15:11 PM] swerin: also could you give some more specific examples?
[9/2/12 5:15:18 PM] swerin: i dont mean over skype necessarily u can do a blog post about it
So after receiving this series of messages from Erin, I felt I had to go into a little more depth with what I mean by Luna acting strangely at night.
I think it's because she has anxieties related to falling asleep; she gets nervous, and that makes her quicker to anger. The times she's gotten mad at me are usually because I'm late getting online so we can talk, or something like that. I always apologize, after which she generally apologizes too for yelling at me. Then I have to comfort her because she feels bad about getting mad at me and I have to reassure her that she's not a bad friend and she didn't hurt my feelings. (Which is true, mostly.)
Sometimes she talks about her imaginary friends, particularly one of them (Gwyn, I'm pretty sure is her name), as if they're real. She's only done that a couple times but it kind of creeps me out.
The other day she said something to me like "I wish I could just be done with all of this". I asked her what she meant, and she said "You know what I mean". I dropped it because I didn't want to admit that I didn't know what she was talking about.
[9/2/12 5:14:28 PM] swerin: so b4 we get onto the more important question of whether or not u liked the lorax i need to ask you something
[9/2/12 5:14:40 PM] swerin: u had that one post where u talked about luna being like two different people depending on the time of day? where like she's all weird at night and gets mad at u over stupid things and acts anxious
[9/2/12 5:14:56 PM] swerin: how often does she act like that? bc it sounds like she hasn't done that for the past two days at least
[9/2/12 5:15:11 PM] swerin: also could you give some more specific examples?
[9/2/12 5:15:18 PM] swerin: i dont mean over skype necessarily u can do a blog post about it
So after receiving this series of messages from Erin, I felt I had to go into a little more depth with what I mean by Luna acting strangely at night.
I think it's because she has anxieties related to falling asleep; she gets nervous, and that makes her quicker to anger. The times she's gotten mad at me are usually because I'm late getting online so we can talk, or something like that. I always apologize, after which she generally apologizes too for yelling at me. Then I have to comfort her because she feels bad about getting mad at me and I have to reassure her that she's not a bad friend and she didn't hurt my feelings. (Which is true, mostly.)
Sometimes she talks about her imaginary friends, particularly one of them (Gwyn, I'm pretty sure is her name), as if they're real. She's only done that a couple times but it kind of creeps me out.
The other day she said something to me like "I wish I could just be done with all of this". I asked her what she meant, and she said "You know what I mean". I dropped it because I didn't want to admit that I didn't know what she was talking about.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Luna Report - 1 Sep '12
I went over to Luna's today. She showed me all the new clothes and stuff she got for school. She doesn't seem particularly excited for school to start, but who would blame her?
We watched a movie (it was The Lorax, Erin, I know you've been bugging me to watch it) and then we had dinner together, after which I went home.
When we talked to each other this evening, Luna asked me to read to her. (I've done this in the past.) I read her a couple chapters of Alice and Wonderland until she told me she was getting sleepy. We actually talked for a few more minutes after that, but it wasn't about anything that interesting. Mostly about school and stuff.
Erin, in case you're not picking up on it, Luna's fine.
We watched a movie (it was The Lorax, Erin, I know you've been bugging me to watch it) and then we had dinner together, after which I went home.
When we talked to each other this evening, Luna asked me to read to her. (I've done this in the past.) I read her a couple chapters of Alice and Wonderland until she told me she was getting sleepy. We actually talked for a few more minutes after that, but it wasn't about anything that interesting. Mostly about school and stuff.
Erin, in case you're not picking up on it, Luna's fine.
Dream Journal - 1 Sep '12
(This is probably going to be my last dream journal. School starts in two days and I'll have less time to blog; this Luna thing is going to be occupying more of my blogging time now anyway. Maybe I'll post more dreams if I have a particularly memorable one, but otherwise this one is the last one.)
I dreamed Luna was really angry at me because I still haven't given her back her rock. She was yelling at me — and Luna rarely yells, even when she's mad — to give it back because she needed it back. She kept saying "I need it". I went up to my room to get it from my suitcase, and when I pulled out the rock I saw that it was a human heart, warm and dripping blood. It was beating in my hands. I could hear it beating. I could feel the heartbeat reverberating through my body.
I woke up then, even though it wasn't yet morning. I fell right back to sleep and didn't have any other dreams.
I dreamed Luna was really angry at me because I still haven't given her back her rock. She was yelling at me — and Luna rarely yells, even when she's mad — to give it back because she needed it back. She kept saying "I need it". I went up to my room to get it from my suitcase, and when I pulled out the rock I saw that it was a human heart, warm and dripping blood. It was beating in my hands. I could hear it beating. I could feel the heartbeat reverberating through my body.
I woke up then, even though it wasn't yet morning. I fell right back to sleep and didn't have any other dreams.
Friday, August 31, 2012
Luna Report - 31 Aug '12
I didn't hang out with Luna today. She was out shopping for school supplies.
I just got off Skype chat with her. She seemed okay. We didn't talk for very long; she was tired already. Sounds like she had a long day.
Honestly, nothing remarkable happened. She didn't say anything weird or anything.
I just got off Skype chat with her. She seemed okay. We didn't talk for very long; she was tired already. Sounds like she had a long day.
Honestly, nothing remarkable happened. She didn't say anything weird or anything.
Erin said I could post this.
[8/31/12 1:01:14 PM] swerin: okay jack i just saw your latest blog post and you really have to listen to what i am about to say to you
[8/31/12 1:01:27 PM] swerin: hell if it helps you listen you can even post this chat on your blog
[8/31/12 1:01:30 PM] swerin: i dont care
[8/31/12 1:01:43 PM] swerin: i know u and luna are friends now or at least u think of each other that way but this is still first and foremost a job not a friendship
[8/31/12 1:02:25 PM] Jack Q: That's not true.
[8/31/12 1:02:32 PM] swerin: just LISTEN to me
[8/31/12 1:02:56 PM] swerin: as long as you keep getting paid to hang out with her it is a job!! i don't care how much you like her, as long as you are GETTING PAID it is a JOB.
[8/31/12 1:03:04 PM] swerin: we clear?
[8/31/12 1:04:01 PM] Jack Q: Clear.
[8/31/12 1:04:16 PM] swerin: i told u to stop accepting payment if you really wanna be friends w/her but u wouldn't listen to me
[8/31/12 1:04:28 PM] swerin: are you gonna listen to me this time?
[8/31/12 1:05:14 PM] Jack Q: Yes, I am. I'm sorry, Erin.
[8/31/12 1:05:20 PM] swerin: do not apologize to me.
[8/31/12 1:05:27 PM] swerin: you should be apologizing to luna if anybody
[8/31/12 1:05:33 PM] swerin: bc apparently you have been continuing to trick her into thinking what you have with her is a real friendship
[8/31/12 1:05:41 PM] swerin: but thats besides the point
[8/31/12 1:05:50 PM] swerin: the point is
[8/31/12 1:06:07 PM] swerin: YOU NEED TO TELL LUNA'S PARENTS ABOUT WHAT IS GOING ON WITH LUNA.
[8/31/12 1:06:16 PM] swerin: i am using all caps because i want you to actually LISTEN
[8/31/12 1:06:31 PM] swerin: i know you think you're protecting her privacy or something by not telling her parents, or maybe the problem is you think it's ur job to fix everything that goes wrong in her life
[8/31/12 1:06:45 PM] swerin: and look im not trying to be down on u for that because at least that shows that u care
[8/31/12 1:07:04 PM] swerin: and what's going on with luna could be nothing serious, could just be middle school kid weirdness, but at this point im starting to doubt it
[8/31/12 1:07:13 PM] swerin: imaginary friends? and shes about to start 7th grade?
[8/31/12 1:07:28 PM] swerin: plus it sounds like she might be manic-depressive or something
[8/31/12 1:07:56 PM] swerin: w/e i'm not a psychologist what do i know. point is u need to tell her parents
[8/31/12 1:08:06 PM] swerin: they need to know so that if she needs help they can get it for her
[8/31/12 1:08:19 PM] swerin: ive had friends who were depressed and might have committed suicide if one of their friends hadnt told their parents about it and gotten them help
[8/31/12 1:08:37 PM] swerin: lunas folks seem like nice people even if they dont know shit about their own damn kid
[8/31/12 1:08:43 PM] swerin: so talk to them. this might be serious
[8/31/12 1:09:00 PM] swerin: and if that isn't enough motivation for u remember that, again, this is ur JOB.
[8/31/12 1:09:09 PM] swerin: you are supposed to make sure luna is okay.
[8/31/12 1:09:15 PM] swerin: if you are not doing that then you are not doing your job.
[8/31/12 1:09:44 PM] Jack Q: I've been trying to help her on my own, Erin, it's not that bad. She just has trouble sleeping sometimes, and I help her with that.
[8/31/12 1:10:03 PM] swerin: YOU NEED TO LISTEN TO ME
[8/31/12 1:10:10 PM] swerin: she's NOT okay she is getting worse if anything from the sounds of it
[8/31/12 1:10:31 PM] swerin: she is getting to be really dependent on u. that's the beginnings of a manipulative relationship right there
[8/31/12 1:10:42 PM] swerin: even if i am overreacting u are way better safe than sorry.
[8/31/12 1:10:59 PM] swerin: next time u meet up with her parents to get paid for pretending to be friends with their little girl then u need to tell them about what's been going on
[8/31/12 1:11:04 PM] swerin: promise me.
[8/31/12 1:11:29 PM] Jack Q: I promise.
[8/31/12 1:11:35 PM] swerin: good. then we're done here.
[8/31/12 1:01:27 PM] swerin: hell if it helps you listen you can even post this chat on your blog
[8/31/12 1:01:30 PM] swerin: i dont care
[8/31/12 1:01:43 PM] swerin: i know u and luna are friends now or at least u think of each other that way but this is still first and foremost a job not a friendship
[8/31/12 1:02:25 PM] Jack Q: That's not true.
[8/31/12 1:02:32 PM] swerin: just LISTEN to me
[8/31/12 1:02:56 PM] swerin: as long as you keep getting paid to hang out with her it is a job!! i don't care how much you like her, as long as you are GETTING PAID it is a JOB.
[8/31/12 1:03:04 PM] swerin: we clear?
[8/31/12 1:04:01 PM] Jack Q: Clear.
[8/31/12 1:04:16 PM] swerin: i told u to stop accepting payment if you really wanna be friends w/her but u wouldn't listen to me
[8/31/12 1:04:28 PM] swerin: are you gonna listen to me this time?
[8/31/12 1:05:14 PM] Jack Q: Yes, I am. I'm sorry, Erin.
[8/31/12 1:05:20 PM] swerin: do not apologize to me.
[8/31/12 1:05:27 PM] swerin: you should be apologizing to luna if anybody
[8/31/12 1:05:33 PM] swerin: bc apparently you have been continuing to trick her into thinking what you have with her is a real friendship
[8/31/12 1:05:41 PM] swerin: but thats besides the point
[8/31/12 1:05:50 PM] swerin: the point is
[8/31/12 1:06:07 PM] swerin: YOU NEED TO TELL LUNA'S PARENTS ABOUT WHAT IS GOING ON WITH LUNA.
[8/31/12 1:06:16 PM] swerin: i am using all caps because i want you to actually LISTEN
[8/31/12 1:06:31 PM] swerin: i know you think you're protecting her privacy or something by not telling her parents, or maybe the problem is you think it's ur job to fix everything that goes wrong in her life
[8/31/12 1:06:45 PM] swerin: and look im not trying to be down on u for that because at least that shows that u care
[8/31/12 1:07:04 PM] swerin: and what's going on with luna could be nothing serious, could just be middle school kid weirdness, but at this point im starting to doubt it
[8/31/12 1:07:13 PM] swerin: imaginary friends? and shes about to start 7th grade?
[8/31/12 1:07:28 PM] swerin: plus it sounds like she might be manic-depressive or something
[8/31/12 1:07:56 PM] swerin: w/e i'm not a psychologist what do i know. point is u need to tell her parents
[8/31/12 1:08:06 PM] swerin: they need to know so that if she needs help they can get it for her
[8/31/12 1:08:19 PM] swerin: ive had friends who were depressed and might have committed suicide if one of their friends hadnt told their parents about it and gotten them help
[8/31/12 1:08:37 PM] swerin: lunas folks seem like nice people even if they dont know shit about their own damn kid
[8/31/12 1:08:43 PM] swerin: so talk to them. this might be serious
[8/31/12 1:09:00 PM] swerin: and if that isn't enough motivation for u remember that, again, this is ur JOB.
[8/31/12 1:09:09 PM] swerin: you are supposed to make sure luna is okay.
[8/31/12 1:09:15 PM] swerin: if you are not doing that then you are not doing your job.
[8/31/12 1:09:44 PM] Jack Q: I've been trying to help her on my own, Erin, it's not that bad. She just has trouble sleeping sometimes, and I help her with that.
[8/31/12 1:10:03 PM] swerin: YOU NEED TO LISTEN TO ME
[8/31/12 1:10:10 PM] swerin: she's NOT okay she is getting worse if anything from the sounds of it
[8/31/12 1:10:31 PM] swerin: she is getting to be really dependent on u. that's the beginnings of a manipulative relationship right there
[8/31/12 1:10:42 PM] swerin: even if i am overreacting u are way better safe than sorry.
[8/31/12 1:10:59 PM] swerin: next time u meet up with her parents to get paid for pretending to be friends with their little girl then u need to tell them about what's been going on
[8/31/12 1:11:04 PM] swerin: promise me.
[8/31/12 1:11:29 PM] Jack Q: I promise.
[8/31/12 1:11:35 PM] swerin: good. then we're done here.
Erin's given me permission to write about our conversation yesterday, so I'll explain what happened.
I can't remember the exact details of the conversation and I'm not in the mood to try remembering precisely who said what, but the gist of it was that she'd found my blog and was (understandably) unhappy that I had been posting our Skype conversations without first asking her. I won't be doing that in the future, rest assured.
In addition, she thinks Luna's behavior is concerning and wants me to talk to Donna about it. She says it's my responsibility to let Luna's parents know that their daughter's been behaving strangely. I'm taking her advice into consideration, but, really, I don't think I need to bother Luna's parents with this. I doubt Luna would want me to tell her parents about her insomnia, either. I want to respect her privacy.
Erin, if you're reading this, once again, I am really sorry.
I can't remember the exact details of the conversation and I'm not in the mood to try remembering precisely who said what, but the gist of it was that she'd found my blog and was (understandably) unhappy that I had been posting our Skype conversations without first asking her. I won't be doing that in the future, rest assured.
In addition, she thinks Luna's behavior is concerning and wants me to talk to Donna about it. She says it's my responsibility to let Luna's parents know that their daughter's been behaving strangely. I'm taking her advice into consideration, but, really, I don't think I need to bother Luna's parents with this. I doubt Luna would want me to tell her parents about her insomnia, either. I want to respect her privacy.
Erin, if you're reading this, once again, I am really sorry.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
An Apology
Erin, I'm really sorry. I never should have posted those chatlogs without permission. I know you've heard a verbal apology from me already, but since I made our chatlogs public I want to make my apology public as well.
I'm sorry.
Dream Journal - 30 Aug '12
(I didn't do a dream journal yesterday because I had trouble sleeping and, frankly, couldn't remember anything I dreamed about. I'm not even sure if I had a dream that night. Is it possible to sleep without dreaming?)
I dreamed about middle school last night. I was sitting with Erin and her friends at a lunch table. Erin was her present-day self, though, while I was a middle-schooler, and she kept talking to me like I was this little kid. I couldn't say anything to her in return, or do anything, actually. I was just frozen, watching.
The dream changed and I was outside at the elementary school playground (the middle and elementary schools were very close to each other, so sometimes middle school kids went over to the elementary school playground, although we weren't supposed to). It didn't look like the elementary school playground does in real life, though; it was much bigger, big enough to get lost in.
I don't really remember what happened after that.
I dreamed about middle school last night. I was sitting with Erin and her friends at a lunch table. Erin was her present-day self, though, while I was a middle-schooler, and she kept talking to me like I was this little kid. I couldn't say anything to her in return, or do anything, actually. I was just frozen, watching.
The dream changed and I was outside at the elementary school playground (the middle and elementary schools were very close to each other, so sometimes middle school kids went over to the elementary school playground, although we weren't supposed to). It didn't look like the elementary school playground does in real life, though; it was much bigger, big enough to get lost in.
I don't really remember what happened after that.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Luna and I have been hanging out every day, and I've been talking to her at night. It's so funny, because she seems almost like two different people. During the day, she's generally pretty happy and relaxed; we have a good time hanging out, chatting or watching movies. At night, though, she's clearly anxious, needy even; she says strange things; she's moody, sometimes even angry, and she's quick to lash out. She's gotten mad at me more than a few times for, honestly, pretty stupid reasons; I always back down and apologize to smooth things over. She never brings up these arguments again.
We talk until she's tired to the point of nearly falling asleep, usually. Most of the time we have audio conversations, or I'd post a chatlog like I've done with my conversations with Erin.
It's a little suffocating sometimes, spending this much time with one person. I guess that this is how it is having a best friend. Luna's probably the closest friend I've ever had in my life, and I'm glad I can be of help to her. Sometimes I just wish I could have a little more time to myself, that's all.
We talk until she's tired to the point of nearly falling asleep, usually. Most of the time we have audio conversations, or I'd post a chatlog like I've done with my conversations with Erin.
It's a little suffocating sometimes, spending this much time with one person. I guess that this is how it is having a best friend. Luna's probably the closest friend I've ever had in my life, and I'm glad I can be of help to her. Sometimes I just wish I could have a little more time to myself, that's all.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Dream Journal - 28 Aug '12
My dream from last night was very odd and disjointed. I can't remember it very well.
Things I do remember from it:
- I was in a car, which for some reason I was driving. I've never actually driven a car in my life. I was going very slowly so as not to crash. There were no other cars around. I was driving down some back road in the woods; I'm not sure where it was. It felt like I was in a tunnel because the trees were so big and had such spreading foliage that I couldn't see the sky.
- My best friend from when I was a little kid (his name was John) and I were building a tree house in the woods. It was a really cool tree house, much better than we would have realistically been able to build, but John kept looking at it and shaking his head. He kept saying it wasn't right, it was all wrong, all wrong, but his voice sounded flat, inhuman almost. It may have been because I don't remember what his voice actually sounded like (he moved away when I was five), but it was still kind of creepy.
- I was inside some building (the tree house, maybe?), and there was this hallway that looked like it went on forever. I literally couldn't see the end of the hallway. There were doors all up and down the side of it. I asked Erin — who was there suddenly — if she knew where any of the doors went, and she just laughed at me.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Dream Journal - 27 Aug '12
I dreamed I was back at the beach. It was night. I was standing near the edge of the beach — not by the water, I mean, at the place where the beach begins. I can't think of the right words to describe that.
It wasn't very dark, though, even though it was night. I could see fine. I could tell it was night... well, because it felt like night, I guess. That, and the light didn't look like daylight. It was too pale, in the way that moonlight is pale. It made everything look black-and-white.
There was a lighthouse; at least, I think there was, but I can't remember it clearly. It didn't really figure in the dream. I just think I remember seeing one.
Out on the water was a little boat. As soon as I saw it I knew I had to swim out to it — I'm not sure why, it was one of those dream-logic things. When I started to head across the beach towards it, though, I saw that a bunch of kids I used to know in middle school had made a campfire a little further down on the beach. They were all standing around it and laughing.
The next thing I remember, I was in the water up to my neck. The little boat was only a few yards away but I couldn't seem to get my arms or legs to move to reach it. My hair was stuck to my face and I couldn't see. (I didn't realize at the time, but for the purposes of this dream I guess I was my middle school self again. My hair was long like it was at the beginning of middle school, anyway.)
For some reason, I looked up just then, and I saw where all the light was coming from. The full moon was directly overhead, and it was enormous. It looked like it was filling the entire sky. If I reached up, I probably could have touched it.
I'm not sure how well I'm explaining myself, so here's a sketch of what I mean.
I woke up right after that. It was strange; that's the most vivid dream I can remember having in a long time.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Chat with Erin
[8/26/12 6:15:38 PM] Jack Q: Erin? You online?
[8/26/12 6:19:44 PM] swerin: yep
[8/26/12 6:20:19 PM] Jack Q: New name, I see.
[8/26/12 6:20:24 PM] Jack Q: "swerin"?
[8/26/12 6:20:50 PM] swerin: it was supposed to be swag + erin but it looks like the word swearing idk one of my friends thought it up it made me laugh so
[8/26/12 6:21:02 PM] swerin: nvm it's an inside joke
[8/26/12 6:21:12 PM] swerin: whassup bro. did you wanna talk about something
[8/26/12 6:22:36 PM] Jack Q: Just wanted to chat. We haven't had a real conversation in a while.
[8/26/12 6:23:20 PM] swerin: yeah sorry man
[8/26/12 6:23:37 PM] swerin: tbh lately most of my communication has been with online buds
[8/26/12 6:23:42 PM] swerin: fandom stuff usually idk how much u know about fandoms
[8/26/12 6:24:09 PM] swerin: you don't have a tumblr right?
[8/26/12 6:24:17 PM] Jack Q: Nope, just a Blogspot account.
[8/26/12 6:25:35 PM] swerin: that's right i remember
[8/26/12 6:25:46 PM] swerin: you should join tumblr though! haha
[8/26/12 6:26:41 PM] swerin: you gave me the link to your blogspot right?
[8/26/12 6:27:13 PM] Jack Q: Yes, a long time ago.
[8/26/12 6:27:28 PM] swerin: cool cool
[8/26/12 6:28:40 PM] swerin: i gotta go
[8/26/12 6:19:44 PM] swerin: yep
[8/26/12 6:20:19 PM] Jack Q: New name, I see.
[8/26/12 6:20:24 PM] Jack Q: "swerin"?
[8/26/12 6:20:50 PM] swerin: it was supposed to be swag + erin but it looks like the word swearing idk one of my friends thought it up it made me laugh so
[8/26/12 6:21:02 PM] swerin: nvm it's an inside joke
[8/26/12 6:21:12 PM] swerin: whassup bro. did you wanna talk about something
[8/26/12 6:22:36 PM] Jack Q: Just wanted to chat. We haven't had a real conversation in a while.
[8/26/12 6:23:20 PM] swerin: yeah sorry man
[8/26/12 6:23:37 PM] swerin: tbh lately most of my communication has been with online buds
[8/26/12 6:23:42 PM] swerin: fandom stuff usually idk how much u know about fandoms
[8/26/12 6:24:09 PM] swerin: you don't have a tumblr right?
[8/26/12 6:24:17 PM] Jack Q: Nope, just a Blogspot account.
[8/26/12 6:25:35 PM] swerin: that's right i remember
[8/26/12 6:25:46 PM] swerin: you should join tumblr though! haha
[8/26/12 6:26:41 PM] swerin: you gave me the link to your blogspot right?
[8/26/12 6:27:13 PM] Jack Q: Yes, a long time ago.
[8/26/12 6:27:28 PM] swerin: cool cool
[8/26/12 6:28:40 PM] swerin: i gotta go
Dream journaling
I know I haven't been writing down my dreams lately. I actually tried keeping track of them while I was at the beach, but none of them were that interesting, so I haven't posted them here.
The past few days, I just haven't been doing it. I feel a little bad because Luna asked me to; it's like I'm letting her down or something, I don't know.
Maybe I'll go back to dream journaling. Probably just for this week, though; I think it'll be harder to do once school starts up again.
The past few days, I just haven't been doing it. I feel a little bad because Luna asked me to; it's like I'm letting her down or something, I don't know.
Maybe I'll go back to dream journaling. Probably just for this week, though; I think it'll be harder to do once school starts up again.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Friday, August 24, 2012
It's okay.
Long story short: Luna is alright.
I just got back from her house. I'll try to sum up how the day went.
I was a little nervous going over there. I can't put a finger on exactly what I was afraid might have happened to prevent Luna from talking to me or coming over yesterday, but I had a bad feeling about it in the pit of my stomach. The first place I checked for her was down at the pond, but she wasn't there, so I went up to her house and knocked on the door.
The minute Donna answered I knew everything was alright, and I felt stupid for being worried in the first place.
Luna was kind of mad at me for not coming over to see her yesterday, which I guess was mean of me. I shouldn't have expected her to have done that. At the very least I should have made arrangements with her.
She didn't stay mad for long, though. We watched some Twilight Zone episodes for a couple hours and then I headed home.
I didn't ask her about her insomnia. I guess I should have, but at the time I didn't really want to bring it up. It felt personal and I didn't want to offend her. That's strange, I guess, since she's the one who brought it up in the first place, but nonetheless.
I just got back from her house. I'll try to sum up how the day went.
I was a little nervous going over there. I can't put a finger on exactly what I was afraid might have happened to prevent Luna from talking to me or coming over yesterday, but I had a bad feeling about it in the pit of my stomach. The first place I checked for her was down at the pond, but she wasn't there, so I went up to her house and knocked on the door.
The minute Donna answered I knew everything was alright, and I felt stupid for being worried in the first place.
Luna was kind of mad at me for not coming over to see her yesterday, which I guess was mean of me. I shouldn't have expected her to have done that. At the very least I should have made arrangements with her.
She didn't stay mad for long, though. We watched some Twilight Zone episodes for a couple hours and then I headed home.
I didn't ask her about her insomnia. I guess I should have, but at the time I didn't really want to bring it up. It felt personal and I didn't want to offend her. That's strange, I guess, since she's the one who brought it up in the first place, but nonetheless.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Vacation Recap
It's been a crazy vacation, in more ways than one.
I like the beach, but I don't like wearing swimsuits — women's swimwear is always, well, too feminine for me. I usually get around the problem by wearing a t-shirt over my swimsuit. My mother, however, hates when I wear a t-shirt over my swimsuit. For whatever reason, it just seems to drive her nuts.
My aunt — her younger sister — seems to share this trait. The entire trip, the two of them were nagging me to take off my t-shirt before I went in the water. Their tactics were slightly different; my mother kept saying things like "You're going to wreck your clothing by getting it all full of saltwater, Jackie", while my aunt kept telling me how I didn't need to feel ashamed of my body, as though either of those were the issues.
Eventually, I stopped swimming when they were around and just brought my book to the beach instead.
I still wanted to have the chance to go swimming, though; we were at the beach, after all. So one night (it was a few days ago; the 19th, I think) I snuck out and headed down to the ocean.
I don't know if night swimming is even legal, but no one was there, and no one caught me. I only stayed a few minutes. It was kind of spooky. Even with the stars out, it was really dark; I think it must have been a new moon. The water was cold and I kept thinking about sharks.
The really spooky part, though, was when I got back. Luna had been Skyping me in my absence. One of her messages said something like "Jack, I want to talk to you, please come back." The message after that said, "I'll be here when you get back from swimming."
I immediately wrote back asking her how she knew I'd been swimming. She ignored my question and just told me she was happy I was back.
I mean, I was on a trip to the beach. I suppose she could have just guessed I was out swimming. But I'd never been out swimming late at night like that, and I hadn't told her I planned to go swimming at night. I don't know; it's probably nothing, but it gave me the creeps.
Luna and I talked almost every night. The past few nights, though, she hasn't been online at all. I take that as a good sign; maybe she's been having less trouble getting to sleep. Alternately, maybe Donna's been using her laptop in the evenings and hasn't let Luna on to talk to me.
I've talked to Erin a fair few times, but just small talk. I pointedly haven't been discussing Luna with her. I think if I did tell her, she'd get concerned, and I don't want her to feel concerned about this. Whatever's up with Luna, I've got it under control.
Apart from the weirdness, it's been a good vacation, though. We stayed in a nice beach house a short distance from the ocean. I really like being near the sea; the smell of the ocean is amazing. It makes me feel strange to be near so much water. It's like standing at the edge of the world.
The ocean is a little scary because it's easy to forget that it's not just an empty expanse of water. It's full of life, so much more life than we have on land, so much of which is too tiny to see. Stuff like that is cool, but at the same time it kind of freaks me out.
Oh — I almost forgot. Luna's rock. I kept it in my suitcase the whole time we were there, except for a couple times when I took it out and held it up to my ear again. Sounds crazy, I know, but I just want to know whatever it is that Luna heard when she held it to her ear. It's probably just the blood rushing through her ears or something like that — like with seashells — but I think it's odd that she can hear something and I can't hear anything.
I like the beach, but I don't like wearing swimsuits — women's swimwear is always, well, too feminine for me. I usually get around the problem by wearing a t-shirt over my swimsuit. My mother, however, hates when I wear a t-shirt over my swimsuit. For whatever reason, it just seems to drive her nuts.
My aunt — her younger sister — seems to share this trait. The entire trip, the two of them were nagging me to take off my t-shirt before I went in the water. Their tactics were slightly different; my mother kept saying things like "You're going to wreck your clothing by getting it all full of saltwater, Jackie", while my aunt kept telling me how I didn't need to feel ashamed of my body, as though either of those were the issues.
Eventually, I stopped swimming when they were around and just brought my book to the beach instead.
I still wanted to have the chance to go swimming, though; we were at the beach, after all. So one night (it was a few days ago; the 19th, I think) I snuck out and headed down to the ocean.
I don't know if night swimming is even legal, but no one was there, and no one caught me. I only stayed a few minutes. It was kind of spooky. Even with the stars out, it was really dark; I think it must have been a new moon. The water was cold and I kept thinking about sharks.
The really spooky part, though, was when I got back. Luna had been Skyping me in my absence. One of her messages said something like "Jack, I want to talk to you, please come back." The message after that said, "I'll be here when you get back from swimming."
I immediately wrote back asking her how she knew I'd been swimming. She ignored my question and just told me she was happy I was back.
I mean, I was on a trip to the beach. I suppose she could have just guessed I was out swimming. But I'd never been out swimming late at night like that, and I hadn't told her I planned to go swimming at night. I don't know; it's probably nothing, but it gave me the creeps.
Luna and I talked almost every night. The past few nights, though, she hasn't been online at all. I take that as a good sign; maybe she's been having less trouble getting to sleep. Alternately, maybe Donna's been using her laptop in the evenings and hasn't let Luna on to talk to me.
I've talked to Erin a fair few times, but just small talk. I pointedly haven't been discussing Luna with her. I think if I did tell her, she'd get concerned, and I don't want her to feel concerned about this. Whatever's up with Luna, I've got it under control.
Apart from the weirdness, it's been a good vacation, though. We stayed in a nice beach house a short distance from the ocean. I really like being near the sea; the smell of the ocean is amazing. It makes me feel strange to be near so much water. It's like standing at the edge of the world.
The ocean is a little scary because it's easy to forget that it's not just an empty expanse of water. It's full of life, so much more life than we have on land, so much of which is too tiny to see. Stuff like that is cool, but at the same time it kind of freaks me out.
Oh — I almost forgot. Luna's rock. I kept it in my suitcase the whole time we were there, except for a couple times when I took it out and held it up to my ear again. Sounds crazy, I know, but I just want to know whatever it is that Luna heard when she held it to her ear. It's probably just the blood rushing through her ears or something like that — like with seashells — but I think it's odd that she can hear something and I can't hear anything.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Finally home!
I have a lot to write about, but right now I need my sleep. It's not that late, but it's been a long day. Tired out. I'll write more in the morning.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Friday, August 17, 2012
Vacation
Well, we're a few days into the vacation now, and it's been pretty good so far. I'm here with my mother, my dad, my aunt and uncle on my mother's side, and their two children (Jamie, who's eight, and Kayla, who's three). I've been expected to watch the kids, which isn't too fun. Both of them are pretty nice kids on their own, but they squabble with each other all the time. (And, believe, me, Kayla is more than a match for Jamie in terms of squabbling, even though he's older.)
My mother keeps bragging about my "babysitting job" back home. I've quit trying to explain that it isn't like that, so instead I just smile and nod when she brings it up.
Luna's Skyped me every night, usually to voice chat. We usually make small talk or joke around; I try to keep things lighthearted. As the conversation begins to wind down, though, she always seems nervous, or anxious, or something, and I have to try and reassure her that she'll be able to sleep okay. She usually does manage to get to sleep normally, so I know I'm doing some good.
My mother also keeps talking about how I'm "writing a story" (a while ago I told her that I was writing original fiction when she asked me what I was always typing on my laptop). I've been forced to make up a story to tell my family when they ask. The story I've made up is about a little girl who talks to her stuffed animals and travels between the real world and the fantasy world with them. It's every lame overdone fantasy trope mashed together, and the little girl is pretty blatantly Luna, but I'm not trying to be creative, just trying to avoid letting my family know about this blog.
My mother keeps bragging about my "babysitting job" back home. I've quit trying to explain that it isn't like that, so instead I just smile and nod when she brings it up.
Luna's Skyped me every night, usually to voice chat. We usually make small talk or joke around; I try to keep things lighthearted. As the conversation begins to wind down, though, she always seems nervous, or anxious, or something, and I have to try and reassure her that she'll be able to sleep okay. She usually does manage to get to sleep normally, so I know I'm doing some good.
My mother also keeps talking about how I'm "writing a story" (a while ago I told her that I was writing original fiction when she asked me what I was always typing on my laptop). I've been forced to make up a story to tell my family when they ask. The story I've made up is about a little girl who talks to her stuffed animals and travels between the real world and the fantasy world with them. It's every lame overdone fantasy trope mashed together, and the little girl is pretty blatantly Luna, but I'm not trying to be creative, just trying to avoid letting my family know about this blog.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Special Rock
I went over to Luna's house to give her back her CD. Donna let me in and offered to just give the CD to Luna for me, but just as I was about to hand it to her Luna came down the stairs.
"Why are you here?" she asked me. Her tone sounded slightly hostile.
"Luna, mind your manners," Donna reproached. "Jackie's here to give you back your CD."
I held it out to her, but she shook her head. "Come upstairs," she told me, then turned and ran up the stairs to her bedroom. I followed.
Once we were in her bedroom, I tried to apologize. Said something about how I was sorry I hadn't told her about the vacation earlier, that it just "slipped my mind", something like that. I don't remember exactly what I said; I was babbling, honestly. I didn't want her to be mad at me. Not only could that mean the loss of a friend, it might mean the loss of a job.
Luna didn't talk to me or look at me during this, and finally I fell silent.
"I don't know what I'm going to do when you're gone," she said quietly.
I tried apologizing again, but she cut me off. "Last time you were gone I barely slept at all. What am I going to do this time? What if it gets even worse?"
Her eyes were wide and accusatory. It was almost frightening. I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but Luna has pretty unusual eyes. They're very large and round and gray — and I don't mean gray-blue, I mean gray like the eyes of a black-and-white photograph. I've never seen anyone with so little color in their eyes.
"I'm so sorry," I said quietly. "I didn't know it was that bad for you when I was gone."
Luna slumped onto the bed face-first. "Sorry," she said, voice muffled. "I didn't mean to get mad at you. It's not your fault. You didn't know."
"Look," I ventured, "maybe when I'm on vacation I can call you at night, or you can call me. Okay?" She sat up, giving me her full attention. "We could Skype with each other or something. Do you have a Skype account?"
Luna shook her head.
"You could make one. It's easy. I'll show you how. Then we can chat with each other — audio or video chat, if you want, or just text. It's what I use to talk to Erin."
"Can you show me how to make one?"
"Sure, if you get the laptop."
Luna left the room and returned with Donna's laptop. We set up a Skype account for her together (Donna didn't have Skype installed, so it took a little while.) As I was explaining how it worked to her, Luna suddenly jumped up and pulled a shoebox out from under her bed. She handed it to me.
"Open it."
I did. Inside was a reddish-brown rock, worn smooth as though by water. I picked it up. It wasn't very big — a little smaller than my fist — but it was surprisingly heavy.
"What's this?"
"My grandma gave it to me," Luna said. "It's special."
"Seems like kind of an odd present," I ventured.
"No," Luna told me, shaking her head emphatically. "You don't get it. It's not an ordinary rock."
"What's special about it?"
She looked at me like I was stupid. "Don't you feel it?"
"Feel what?"
"It doesn't feel special to you?" Luna made a vague gesture with her hands. "Like, you can't feel it... come on! You don't feel how warm it is?"
"It doesn't really feel warm to me."
"You don't hear it? Put it up to your ear."
I raised the rock to my ear, feeling distinctly idiotic. "No, I can't hear anything."
"That's strange." Luna frowned. "We can hear it. Why can't you hear it?"
"Who's we?"
"I mean, I." Luna frowned again. "Sorry," she said as if to the air, not looking at me.
"Well, anyway, I should head home. Thanks anyway." I started to get up, but she tugged me back down into a sitting position. "Luna, let me go, kid. I have to finish packing."
"I don't want you to leave," she said quietly.
"I know. But I'll be back before you know it. Promise."
"When?" Luna asked. "What day?"
"Ten days from now. The 22nd. That's not too long away."
She gave me a look like a hurt kitten, and I felt instantly awful for suggesting that the 22nd was anything short of a lifetime away. "Sorry. We can talk every day if you want. Whatever makes you feel better, okay?"
Luna nodded slowly, then slipped her hand into mine. I put my arm around her. We just sat like that for a while.
Finally, I disentangled myself and told her I had to leave. Luna nodded (it was like she was giving me permission) and offered to walk me downstairs. I almost laughed, because she was treating me like I was the twelve-year-old and she was the fifteen-year-old.
When we reached the bottom of the stairs, she slipped the smooth rock into my hands and told me to take it with me. She looked so earnest I didn't even ask her why.
I biked home with the rock in the front pocket of my sweatshirt. It kept knocking against my stomach as I rode. I didn't feel it much at the time, but now it's starting to ache. I think I might even have a bruise.
"Why are you here?" she asked me. Her tone sounded slightly hostile.
"Luna, mind your manners," Donna reproached. "Jackie's here to give you back your CD."
I held it out to her, but she shook her head. "Come upstairs," she told me, then turned and ran up the stairs to her bedroom. I followed.
Once we were in her bedroom, I tried to apologize. Said something about how I was sorry I hadn't told her about the vacation earlier, that it just "slipped my mind", something like that. I don't remember exactly what I said; I was babbling, honestly. I didn't want her to be mad at me. Not only could that mean the loss of a friend, it might mean the loss of a job.
Luna didn't talk to me or look at me during this, and finally I fell silent.
"I don't know what I'm going to do when you're gone," she said quietly.
I tried apologizing again, but she cut me off. "Last time you were gone I barely slept at all. What am I going to do this time? What if it gets even worse?"
Her eyes were wide and accusatory. It was almost frightening. I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but Luna has pretty unusual eyes. They're very large and round and gray — and I don't mean gray-blue, I mean gray like the eyes of a black-and-white photograph. I've never seen anyone with so little color in their eyes.
"I'm so sorry," I said quietly. "I didn't know it was that bad for you when I was gone."
Luna slumped onto the bed face-first. "Sorry," she said, voice muffled. "I didn't mean to get mad at you. It's not your fault. You didn't know."
"Look," I ventured, "maybe when I'm on vacation I can call you at night, or you can call me. Okay?" She sat up, giving me her full attention. "We could Skype with each other or something. Do you have a Skype account?"
Luna shook her head.
"You could make one. It's easy. I'll show you how. Then we can chat with each other — audio or video chat, if you want, or just text. It's what I use to talk to Erin."
"Can you show me how to make one?"
"Sure, if you get the laptop."
Luna left the room and returned with Donna's laptop. We set up a Skype account for her together (Donna didn't have Skype installed, so it took a little while.) As I was explaining how it worked to her, Luna suddenly jumped up and pulled a shoebox out from under her bed. She handed it to me.
"Open it."
I did. Inside was a reddish-brown rock, worn smooth as though by water. I picked it up. It wasn't very big — a little smaller than my fist — but it was surprisingly heavy.
"What's this?"
"My grandma gave it to me," Luna said. "It's special."
"Seems like kind of an odd present," I ventured.
"No," Luna told me, shaking her head emphatically. "You don't get it. It's not an ordinary rock."
"What's special about it?"
She looked at me like I was stupid. "Don't you feel it?"
"Feel what?"
"It doesn't feel special to you?" Luna made a vague gesture with her hands. "Like, you can't feel it... come on! You don't feel how warm it is?"
"It doesn't really feel warm to me."
"You don't hear it? Put it up to your ear."
I raised the rock to my ear, feeling distinctly idiotic. "No, I can't hear anything."
"That's strange." Luna frowned. "We can hear it. Why can't you hear it?"
"Who's we?"
"I mean, I." Luna frowned again. "Sorry," she said as if to the air, not looking at me.
"Well, anyway, I should head home. Thanks anyway." I started to get up, but she tugged me back down into a sitting position. "Luna, let me go, kid. I have to finish packing."
"I don't want you to leave," she said quietly.
"I know. But I'll be back before you know it. Promise."
"When?" Luna asked. "What day?"
"Ten days from now. The 22nd. That's not too long away."
She gave me a look like a hurt kitten, and I felt instantly awful for suggesting that the 22nd was anything short of a lifetime away. "Sorry. We can talk every day if you want. Whatever makes you feel better, okay?"
Luna nodded slowly, then slipped her hand into mine. I put my arm around her. We just sat like that for a while.
Finally, I disentangled myself and told her I had to leave. Luna nodded (it was like she was giving me permission) and offered to walk me downstairs. I almost laughed, because she was treating me like I was the twelve-year-old and she was the fifteen-year-old.
When we reached the bottom of the stairs, she slipped the smooth rock into my hands and told me to take it with me. She looked so earnest I didn't even ask her why.
I biked home with the rock in the front pocket of my sweatshirt. It kept knocking against my stomach as I rode. I didn't feel it much at the time, but now it's starting to ache. I think I might even have a bruise.
I've got almost everything packed for vacation. I can't stand packing; it always makes me feel like I'm forgetting to pack something really important, even if I'm not.
Luna's Emilie Autumn CD is still over at my house. I just found it; I had mistakenly put it with my own CDs. It's starting to get late, but maybe I can head over to Luna's and return it. She must be missing it.
Luna's Emilie Autumn CD is still over at my house. I just found it; I had mistakenly put it with my own CDs. It's starting to get late, but maybe I can head over to Luna's and return it. She must be missing it.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
It took me a while to get up the nerve to ask Luna what I wanted to ask her. I don't know why I got nervous; it's just my usual fear of confrontation, I suppose, though I hardly expected Luna to be the confrontational type. (We've never even had an argument.)
Finally, though, I got up the nerve to ask her "Are you okay?"
It doesn't sound like a scary question to ask somebody, but it is if you're expecting the answer to be "No".
Luna didn't answer me at first. She seemed taken aback by the question. "Yeah," she said finally. "I'm fine."
"You sure? Everything's okay?"
"Yeah. We're having fun, right?" Luna looked at me as if fearful that I'd say no.
"Definitely," I reassured her. "It's just that..." I wasn't sure how to explain my doubts as to her mental state to her. Everything seemed a little odd in ways I couldn't quite put a finger on.
Lately, Luna's been acting kind of anxious. She spends a lot of time staring out the windows at, so far as I can tell, nothing in particular; or, if we're outside, up at the sky. Sometimes she'll seem totally normal and happy, other times she'll be inexplicably melancholy, and she can move between the two states in the course of a single day. She doesn't seem to have as much energy as she used to. There are darkening circles under her eyes.
Then there's the actual incidents of truly weird behavior; the trancelike states induced by staring at where her old house once stood, the time she showed up unexplained outside my house late in the evening.
"It's just that you seem a little down lately," I finished lamely.
Luna considered. "I'm okay," she said. "I'm not, like, depressed. I don't think. How do you tell if you're depressed?"
"I don't know. You feel sad all the time?" I really know next to nothing about clinical depression. "Look, Luna, you know you can tell me anything, alright? Anything. I want to be able to help you. That's what friendship is about, after all."
There was a long silence. Luna appeared to be thinking things over. She fidgeted nervously, clasping and unclasping her hands in her lap.
"Can we talk somewhere else?" she asked me.
We were sitting out on Luna's sagging back porch. She got up, grabbed my hand — for a kid her size, she's pretty strong — and pulled me to my feet, then led me inside the house and up the stairs to her bedroom.
Once we were inside, she shut the door, then turned the skeleton key in the lock. The door made a rusty clicking noise. For a crazy second I felt as though I was in a horror film and Luna was about to get out an axe and chop me to bits.
"Okay," Luna said, turning to me with a very serious expression on her face. She gestured for me to sit down on her bed. I did so.
"I've been having trouble sleeping," she told me quietly.
I felt almost disappointed. That was it? I'd expected something much more dramatic — I wasn't sure what, but definitely more exciting than a little insomnia.
"I can't sleep when it's dark out," Luna continued. "If I go to bed when it's still light, sometimes that's okay. But then I wake up in the middle of the night and I can't go back to sleep until the sun starts rising."
"Why do you think that is?"
Luna shrugged and looked pensive. "Um... maybe because it's so quiet here at night, compared to the city?"
"You'd think you'd be used to that by now," I pointed out. "It's been months since you moved."
"It's not just the quiet, though. It's the dark. It wasn't so dark at night in the city, either." Luna frowned. "I had trouble sleeping almost ever since we moved, up until around the time you and me started going to the movies together. Then it got better and I could sleep normally again. Then it got worse again and now it's even worse than it was to begin with."
"So has this been happening every night?"
"Almost every," Luna said. Then she leaned forward confidentially, her eyes shining. "It's better when I talk to you or hang out with you before bed. You really help, Jack, even if you don't know it. It was awful when you were gone."
I remembered suddenly that I'd never told her about my upcoming vacation.
"Thanks," I said awkwardly. "Anything I can do to help, you know..."
"You could talk to me more," Luna ventured. "We could call on the phone when you can't come over. Talking to you makes me feel safer. You know..." She trailed off, looking as though she wanted to say something more, but didn't.
"I can definitely talk to you more," I reassured her, "if that helps."
"It really does." Luna was smiling widely. "Thanks, Jack!"
She sounded so sincere and happy, I couldn't help but grin back at her.
Finally, though, I got up the nerve to ask her "Are you okay?"
It doesn't sound like a scary question to ask somebody, but it is if you're expecting the answer to be "No".
Luna didn't answer me at first. She seemed taken aback by the question. "Yeah," she said finally. "I'm fine."
"You sure? Everything's okay?"
"Yeah. We're having fun, right?" Luna looked at me as if fearful that I'd say no.
"Definitely," I reassured her. "It's just that..." I wasn't sure how to explain my doubts as to her mental state to her. Everything seemed a little odd in ways I couldn't quite put a finger on.
Lately, Luna's been acting kind of anxious. She spends a lot of time staring out the windows at, so far as I can tell, nothing in particular; or, if we're outside, up at the sky. Sometimes she'll seem totally normal and happy, other times she'll be inexplicably melancholy, and she can move between the two states in the course of a single day. She doesn't seem to have as much energy as she used to. There are darkening circles under her eyes.
Then there's the actual incidents of truly weird behavior; the trancelike states induced by staring at where her old house once stood, the time she showed up unexplained outside my house late in the evening.
"It's just that you seem a little down lately," I finished lamely.
Luna considered. "I'm okay," she said. "I'm not, like, depressed. I don't think. How do you tell if you're depressed?"
"I don't know. You feel sad all the time?" I really know next to nothing about clinical depression. "Look, Luna, you know you can tell me anything, alright? Anything. I want to be able to help you. That's what friendship is about, after all."
There was a long silence. Luna appeared to be thinking things over. She fidgeted nervously, clasping and unclasping her hands in her lap.
"Can we talk somewhere else?" she asked me.
We were sitting out on Luna's sagging back porch. She got up, grabbed my hand — for a kid her size, she's pretty strong — and pulled me to my feet, then led me inside the house and up the stairs to her bedroom.
Once we were inside, she shut the door, then turned the skeleton key in the lock. The door made a rusty clicking noise. For a crazy second I felt as though I was in a horror film and Luna was about to get out an axe and chop me to bits.
"Okay," Luna said, turning to me with a very serious expression on her face. She gestured for me to sit down on her bed. I did so.
"I've been having trouble sleeping," she told me quietly.
I felt almost disappointed. That was it? I'd expected something much more dramatic — I wasn't sure what, but definitely more exciting than a little insomnia.
"I can't sleep when it's dark out," Luna continued. "If I go to bed when it's still light, sometimes that's okay. But then I wake up in the middle of the night and I can't go back to sleep until the sun starts rising."
"Why do you think that is?"
Luna shrugged and looked pensive. "Um... maybe because it's so quiet here at night, compared to the city?"
"You'd think you'd be used to that by now," I pointed out. "It's been months since you moved."
"It's not just the quiet, though. It's the dark. It wasn't so dark at night in the city, either." Luna frowned. "I had trouble sleeping almost ever since we moved, up until around the time you and me started going to the movies together. Then it got better and I could sleep normally again. Then it got worse again and now it's even worse than it was to begin with."
"So has this been happening every night?"
"Almost every," Luna said. Then she leaned forward confidentially, her eyes shining. "It's better when I talk to you or hang out with you before bed. You really help, Jack, even if you don't know it. It was awful when you were gone."
I remembered suddenly that I'd never told her about my upcoming vacation.
"Thanks," I said awkwardly. "Anything I can do to help, you know..."
"You could talk to me more," Luna ventured. "We could call on the phone when you can't come over. Talking to you makes me feel safer. You know..." She trailed off, looking as though she wanted to say something more, but didn't.
"I can definitely talk to you more," I reassured her, "if that helps."
"It really does." Luna was smiling widely. "Thanks, Jack!"
She sounded so sincere and happy, I couldn't help but grin back at her.
Going over to see Luna.
I really want to talk to her about some things. I'll post later about how it goes.
Oh yeah — dream!
So last night I dreamed I was staying over at Luna's house. We were having a sleepover, which we've never actually done in real life. For some reason, we were sleeping in the living room rather than Luna's bedroom.
I think we were watching a movie or something first, though I don't remember what we were watching. It must have been a funny movie, because Luna kept giggling. I remember smelling popcorn, but I don't remember actually eating any popcorn.
When the movie was over we went to bed. There was only one sleeping bag and pillow. I offered it to Luna, but she wouldn't take it. I kept telling her to take the sleeping bag and pillow and that I could sleep on the couch. She kept refusing. Finally she told me something like "I'm not going to sleep anyway, Jack." For some reason I quit protesting after that — or I think I did, because I can't remember what happened right after that very clearly.
The next thing I remember happening in the dream was getting up and walking outside. As soon as I was out of the house, the house was gone. The ruins of Luna's old house were there in its place. I knew suddenly that Luna was down by the pond, at the willow tree. I tried walking towards it, but I didn't seem to be getting anywhere. It was as though I was walking in place. Even though it was night, it wasn't very dark. Everything looked black and white in the moonlight.
Sort of a weird dream, I guess. It sounds odder on paper. It didn't strike me as particularly odd while it was happening.
So last night I dreamed I was staying over at Luna's house. We were having a sleepover, which we've never actually done in real life. For some reason, we were sleeping in the living room rather than Luna's bedroom.
I think we were watching a movie or something first, though I don't remember what we were watching. It must have been a funny movie, because Luna kept giggling. I remember smelling popcorn, but I don't remember actually eating any popcorn.
When the movie was over we went to bed. There was only one sleeping bag and pillow. I offered it to Luna, but she wouldn't take it. I kept telling her to take the sleeping bag and pillow and that I could sleep on the couch. She kept refusing. Finally she told me something like "I'm not going to sleep anyway, Jack." For some reason I quit protesting after that — or I think I did, because I can't remember what happened right after that very clearly.
The next thing I remember happening in the dream was getting up and walking outside. As soon as I was out of the house, the house was gone. The ruins of Luna's old house were there in its place. I knew suddenly that Luna was down by the pond, at the willow tree. I tried walking towards it, but I didn't seem to be getting anywhere. It was as though I was walking in place. Even though it was night, it wasn't very dark. Everything looked black and white in the moonlight.
Sort of a weird dream, I guess. It sounds odder on paper. It didn't strike me as particularly odd while it was happening.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Thursday, August 9, 2012
"I don't want to think about night right now."
I met Luna by the pond like she'd asked me to. She was by the willow tree, which didn't surprise me; I'd expected her to be there.
"Hey," I said. "You slept kinda late."
Luna nodded. She had faint dark circles under her eyes.
"You okay?"
"Fine," she said, not looking at me.
"Want to go do something?"
"Like what?"
I thought. "Uh... we could go downtown, take a walk. It's a nice day. Or we could watch something. Or just hang out and talk. Whatever you wanna do."
"Let's take a walk," Luna decided, then immediately started off without waiting for a response from me.
I followed her. It took me a second to realize she was leading me over towards the ruins of her old house again.
"Any reason we're going over there?"
"I want to look at it," Luna said without turning around. She was walking so fast she was practically running. I broke into a half-jog to catch up with her.
We reached the ruins. The scene felt eerily familiar; again, Luna went to stand where the front door must have been once, staring as if in a trance. Her head was tilted up towards the sky, and for a second it occurred to me that maybe she was looking up at where the roof of the house would have been before it burned down. The way she was staring made my skin crawl; it looked almost as if she could see the house there, like it had never burned down at all.
"Have you done enough looking?" I asked after a few minutes of this.
At the sound of my voice, Luna blinked several times, then shook her head rapidly from side to side, her hair flying out around her. It wasn't a headshake meaning "no"; she looked as if she were trying to snap herself out of the trance she'd apparently fallen into.
"I'm sorry," she told me. "I just... I just needed to..."
She blinked rapidly again. I wondered if she was going to cry, but she didn't.
"Look," I said, trying to break the tension, "it can't have been easy having your old house burn down like that. I get it."
Luna shook her head slowly. "No, you don't. It's not..." She took a deep breath. "It's fine. It doesn't really matter. Come on, let's go downtown."
Again, she led and I followed.
We didn't talk on the way to Main Street, but once we'd gotten there conversation resumed as normal. Neither of us talked about the earlier incident; it was as if it had never happened. We walked around, got cold drinks, chatted. It was a very nice day, so we sat out in the sun for a while not talking much at all, just enjoying the weather.
Luna asked me if I'd been writing down my dreams. I told her I had, and she asked me what they'd been about. I told her the one I could remember, about the beach house. She seemed interested.
"Your dreams sound pretty nice," she told me.
"I don't know about nice. It was kind of a weird dream."
"But nothing bad happened in it. Right?"
"The absence of bad things isn't the same as nice," I pointed out.
Luna shrugged. "I guess."
"Do you have a lot of nightmares or something?" I asked her. The dreams Luna had related to me in the past mostly sounded innocuous.
Luna hesitated. "Sometimes," she said carefully. "But I don't want to talk about that right now. It's a nice day. I don't want to think about night right now."
I don't want to think about night right now. That line stuck with me. It seems like such odd phrasing.
Eventually we both headed back to Luna's house. She invited me to stay for lunch, but I didn't feel in the mood, so I took my bike and went home.
"Hey," I said. "You slept kinda late."
Luna nodded. She had faint dark circles under her eyes.
"You okay?"
"Fine," she said, not looking at me.
"Want to go do something?"
"Like what?"
I thought. "Uh... we could go downtown, take a walk. It's a nice day. Or we could watch something. Or just hang out and talk. Whatever you wanna do."
"Let's take a walk," Luna decided, then immediately started off without waiting for a response from me.
I followed her. It took me a second to realize she was leading me over towards the ruins of her old house again.
"Any reason we're going over there?"
"I want to look at it," Luna said without turning around. She was walking so fast she was practically running. I broke into a half-jog to catch up with her.
We reached the ruins. The scene felt eerily familiar; again, Luna went to stand where the front door must have been once, staring as if in a trance. Her head was tilted up towards the sky, and for a second it occurred to me that maybe she was looking up at where the roof of the house would have been before it burned down. The way she was staring made my skin crawl; it looked almost as if she could see the house there, like it had never burned down at all.
"Have you done enough looking?" I asked after a few minutes of this.
At the sound of my voice, Luna blinked several times, then shook her head rapidly from side to side, her hair flying out around her. It wasn't a headshake meaning "no"; she looked as if she were trying to snap herself out of the trance she'd apparently fallen into.
"I'm sorry," she told me. "I just... I just needed to..."
She blinked rapidly again. I wondered if she was going to cry, but she didn't.
"Look," I said, trying to break the tension, "it can't have been easy having your old house burn down like that. I get it."
Luna shook her head slowly. "No, you don't. It's not..." She took a deep breath. "It's fine. It doesn't really matter. Come on, let's go downtown."
Again, she led and I followed.
We didn't talk on the way to Main Street, but once we'd gotten there conversation resumed as normal. Neither of us talked about the earlier incident; it was as if it had never happened. We walked around, got cold drinks, chatted. It was a very nice day, so we sat out in the sun for a while not talking much at all, just enjoying the weather.
Luna asked me if I'd been writing down my dreams. I told her I had, and she asked me what they'd been about. I told her the one I could remember, about the beach house. She seemed interested.
"Your dreams sound pretty nice," she told me.
"I don't know about nice. It was kind of a weird dream."
"But nothing bad happened in it. Right?"
"The absence of bad things isn't the same as nice," I pointed out.
Luna shrugged. "I guess."
"Do you have a lot of nightmares or something?" I asked her. The dreams Luna had related to me in the past mostly sounded innocuous.
Luna hesitated. "Sometimes," she said carefully. "But I don't want to talk about that right now. It's a nice day. I don't want to think about night right now."
I don't want to think about night right now. That line stuck with me. It seems like such odd phrasing.
Eventually we both headed back to Luna's house. She invited me to stay for lunch, but I didn't feel in the mood, so I took my bike and went home.
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