Huh. So, I even did most of the things I thought I would do today. Pretty shocking.
Except that I did not go see her because she never texted me. I’m okay with that. She said she might’ve already had plans when I asked her, but she wasn’t sure yet. It’s cool.
Not really cool at all. Because I am insecure, and I wonder if maybe she really did not want to see me. Because she told me that she has a hard time just telling people that. But…she wouldn’t’ve said that to me and then done it, knowing I would remember that…right?
Man, paranoia is great stuff.
You know. The feeling of finally having found a companion who was enough like me that we could go out and do things, and talk about things. Or not. And it would still be alright. And then wondering if that was actually what you had found, or if you just tricked yourself into thinking that because you were lonely enough to believe it.
I keep thinking stupid things like that while I’ve been rewatching Doctor Who…that I’m like these Time Lords in some ways…singling out this or that person and willing them to be my friend, and doing my very best to persuade them that I am brilliant and that they don’t ever want to stop being my friend because I’m so lonely that I can’t bear the idea of not having someone who sticks by me, no matter how mad I might seem to be.
Except that then things happen and you lose those someones.
Space and time intervene and you get separated, and they go on with the lives that are in front of them every day and they forget about you.
Except that random conversation when, after years of not having anything to say to you, they contact you and ask your advice on how to help someone that they love who is going through a rough time. And you tell them what you would say, and you know they said those things and you know that things worked out between them and this person and that they even got married. But they didn’t invite you to the wedding. In fact, they never talked to you again after that conversation.
Or they leave you. And they don’t tiptoe away, or walk nonchalantly away, or even walk briskly. They run. And you don’t know why or what could possibly have happened to make them do this, so you chase after them and you hunt after them and they avoid and evade you.
So you wait. And they never reach back out to you. Until one day they call you and tell you that they have a baby now, and the assumption that you would judge them so harshly as to cut off your friendship was so unbearable to them that they cut it off before you could even know what was happening. And you extend your friendship again and try to persuade them that it is real…but…they shrink away, and the only other time you remember hearing from them was when they called you and told you that they think they stayed out of a situation that could have landed them in jail because they thought about what you would have done and did that instead.
Or they are dazzled and smitten with someone who is as clever as you are, and as caustic, and whom you can never be comfortable with or approve of. And you love this particular friend more than anything, so you tell them you have doubts…and of course they don’t take you seriously…but you’ll be damned before you let go.
So you do everything in the universe to stay in touch this time, but every conversation you have is monopolized or compressed by this other person. Every visit involves little exchanges of insults and sarcasm and finally, hugs goodbye because you and this other person are so glad to be rid of each other again. And your friend never notices. And finally, after years of observing, you concede that maybe you were always wrong, and you’re a terrible person to have been so irrational about it for such a bloody long time…only to have this awful other person leave your friend broke and essentially homeless when you are not in a position to be very helpful.
And then, as all of that is happening…you meet someone who is quiet and little and morbid and adorable, and you go out to graveyards, and go on walks to see things like bright orange fungus or animal bones or hundreds of tiny wild strawberries. And you think that after being separated from your best friend for so many years, that having a friend who will go out and look at things and paint pictures and talk about death and about monsters with you is the best thing in the world and how, by the way, did you ever manage to not have one for all that time?
And then you realize that you forgot how to be a normal friend. And it makes you anxious. And you obsess over it. And it’s not healthy. And you think about all the other companions you lost and wonder if there is a way to avoid those same things that separated all of them from you…and there isn’t. Not a single thing in all of time and space can stop it.
There’s just nothing to be done.
So you keep going.
And, just to kick you in your shins, the universe sends you an email from Amazon to tell you that your book that you preordered will be at your house any day now.
Because you find short stories easier to fit into your schedule.
And because Neil Gaiman is one of your favourite authors.
And because you’re convinced that with your companions, and with your periodically regenerating personality, and with your ability to out-clever large portions of the population, you might just have enough Time Lord qualities for Doctor Who books to be interesting.