I’m not in a “Lost and Found” kind of mood, so I’m going to work a little more on the no-name story.
I let Doctor Gene read my first entry. She said it was very interesting. She found it odd that I used the word “ironic” to describe the name “DiAngelo.” She asked me some questions about Tony, about how we had met, and said that maybe I should write about that for our next session. She felt that writing could be a useful tool.
She also commented on Jason’s cell phone number. She is, of course, of the opinion that I have imagined my marriage and life with Jason, if not his very existence. Of course, there is proof that he exists, so I know I didn’t imagine his existence. Anyway, her point was that I had imagined some sort of person to “save” me, which was why I had given his cell phone number the sign of the cross. I’m not sure I like Dr. Gene.
So this week, I’m supposed to write about Tony, or not, if I find it too difficult. Yeah, I’ll write about Tony. But I know that a good chunk of what I write will be edited out before I ever let Dr. Gene read it. She would have a field day with the story as I perceived it. Yeah, I really want to be diagnosed with schizophrenia…
Have you ever met someone who seemed to know what you were thinking without you ever even saying it? Imagine being around someone who could weave his way in and out of your head, and bring up in a casual conversation the wise-ass remark you were thinking but didn’t say out loud. Now, imagine that someone using those thoughts to manipulate you. That was Tony.
I was young, and stupid, and I thought I was in love, and Thank the powers-that-be, he quickly tired of whatever game he was playing and broke my heart quickly, before either of us invested too much time.
I say that with the power of hindsight, but at the time, I was devastated. In the way that everything seems more important in youth, I felt my sense of reality spinning into darkness in a moment.
I suppose I have to explain that a little better. To do that is to recall examples, and to fall into that old trap of trying to prove that weird, seemingly psychic connection. Maybe he really could read my thoughts, maybe he was just really good at reading my facial expressions, but there always seemed to be one too many coincidences.
Have you ever thought about someone you haven’t seen in a while and had them show up out of nowhere? Have you ever had someone pop into your head out of the blue, and then they call you? You laugh a little, brush it off as a coincidence. But deep down, you wonder.
Have you ever felt a pull inside you, a need to walk, to keep walking, you don’t know where, just walk, and then suddenly, you find yourself somewhere you hadn’t planned on going, and there is that person… that person who maybe you didn’t realize was in the back of your brain, but now that they are there, you feel like you are exactly where you meant to go?
I’ve had things like that happen, and not just with Tony. But that year when we met, it seemed as though I found myself with him so often, when I never intended to seek him out.
It was more than that. I would have a conversation with my roommate, and not ten minutes later, we would cross paths, and he would bring up what she and I had just been discussing.
I never felt as though I could read his mind, though. At least, not in words. But sometimes, I would look at him, and this feeling would pierce through me, and it felt foreign to me, as though it wasn’t coming from me.
I know this all sounds so crazy. Dizzying. It’s not a sunshine and rainbows kind of thing to feel like your thoughts are open to someone, and your feelings aren’t your own. It may be intoxicating, but there is this sense of being violated.
Then there was the kiss. When we kissed, the world was spinning into darkness, and there was nothing else in that moment. But in the light of day, it all dissolved.
When you are young, that kiss, that moment, can be your whole world. Then, suddenly, it evaporates. That was Tony.
It took me a long time to get over something that was gone so soon. It took days to feel like I could breathe. It took weeks to stop looking over my shoulder, or wondering if he would suddenly appear again. It took many months to feel like I was really alive again. And it took years to be able to feel like I was in love with someone.
Jason. We had built a life together. We had been inseparable since the day we met. Partners in crime, Ying and Yang. With him, I felt comfortable in my own skin. Why am I referring to him in the past tense?