I call Sinclair, and very awkwardly let him know that I need to talk to him. We decide on a shitty chain cafe--somewhere neutral and safe. I stumble through my words, not wanting to immediately jump in over the radio and say "I haven't been able to stop thinking about the drinking game." and have it taken the wrong way. Especially if I've been giving him the wrong idea. I haven't even thought about dating anybody for years and years, and if I try to cycle through every interaction that we had I fear I'm going to have to start questioning everything I remember.
So we meet up instead. We're at a stupid cafe with our drinks because of a stupid drinking game. I need to figure out how to tell him that who he's crushing on is just the face I've put on to hide in plain sight; a byproduct of having to supress my own magic for so long. The easiest way of doing this, by far, was just rolling with whatever was happening around--and to me--in that moment. Less fuss, less notice, less trouble.
What was the face I wore when Thorn took me home, after all? The cool girl that he was hooking up with or the girl that was hoping this wouldn't take too long ⏪︎ ?
For the first time in years, I think about it and I'm pissed off. It's a deeper anger than when Merin and I talked about it back in college, and I'm still not even sure who it's pointed at anymore; a directionless rage that settles uncomfortably into realizing just how much rolling with the wants of others has fractured my life. What is it about Sinclair that's finally forced me to even examine it this closely? I wanted to be accepted so I'd play pretend to be the cool, mysterious chick and not the freak because it was easier to digest. I wanted to be wanted and I settled for men that meant nothing to me because it was easier than commitment. When I wanted to tear my claws into Vesa's face for what he did to me, I let myself get calmed and convinced he wasn't worth the trouble I'd be in. I let false friends lead me to believing that there was just something inherent about me that provoked him anyway. Finally, I wanted to just pass by invisibly so I shut the rest of the world out.
And it was all for nothing. I was still seen, still giving off signals that I didn't mean, missing the ones that are crucial, and now we're here.
There's cracks forming around my defenses.
I should have been putting myself out there more, committing to what I wanted out of school, out of life. I should have left room for falling in love, for enjoying my own body the way that I wanted to, enjoying the comforts of how I wanted to look. I should have been able to not only know when and what I wanted, but have the internal safety to actually tell others when necessary. I should have been living my life this whole time as who I actually am and not trying to shape myself into a normal, docile, quiet, nice and respectable young woman. All that ever got me was used.
And I'm angry at realizing just how many opportunities I've denied myself. Whatever else it's done to me will have to come up later.