The livelihood of my peers made my head hurt. What on earth could be so exciting for them to be buzzing about in this way? Truly they behaved like flies, running everywhere without a single thought or destination. In frustration I began picking at the small scabs on my arm waiting for everyone to settle down. The only peace I had was in classes where silence was forced on all of us. I paid more attention than I usually would because it served as a distraction. Focusing on the lesson allowed me to stop thinking and reliving the past that I otherwise cannot escape.
When my mind would begin to wander, I wrote with more vigor to bring it back, tearing holes in my exercise book. The writing felt more like myself when I would do that. It was thick, so heavy that it left dents on the next few pages, and messy to the point it was bordering illegible. When I wrote slowly and neatly, I felt like a sham. I was fooling the world with the appearance of a normal person when in reality I was the mess that only comes out when I let my emotions flow.
Nonetheless, it did me good to distract myself in this way. At the very least, it was a productive distraction that did not go unnoticed. Gradually my exam scores were increasing, not substantially but enough. I was far from intelligent in the eyes of both myself and others, but I didn't feel lightyears away from them anymore. In a strange turn of events, I feel like this hurdle and shared difficulty helped me find my place in this world. Where I used to be a wandering soul, so far detached from reality, I now realise I had built connections and formed relationships with people without having tried.
I was becoming an inhabitant of this world and it allowed me to settle in. Current events actually held weight and meant something to me rather than being an irrelevant story that I didn't have to listen to. People I came across were genuine people and not just fictional characters that could have been written off in a few words without care. They had their own lives as I had mine. It's bittersweet to understand that in this way, especially because it means I hadn't treated Leslie and Hank as real people while they were alive. That is likely another guilt I will have to learn to live with.
I still kept my distance from people however. Now more than ever I was afraid of what it meant to see them as real. Accepting them as living beings meant being comfortable with the idea that I would lose them yet again. I constantly fluctuate between the two extremes. Either I am afraid of loss as decide to confine myself to a life of solitude, or I work up the courage to build meaningful relationships because I am afraid of loneliness. It is a cycle that continuously repeats itself. Finding courage is difficult but keeping it is even harder.
If only it was a physical being that I could hold in my hands, making sure that I didn't drop it or lose it anywhere. But instead it was an immaterial being that I could not physically cling to. It is almost as if I don't believe that courage can come from within. It must be handed to me from an external source, and it is up to me to keep it safe. But I have always struggled with keeping things precious to me safe, and that is part of the issue.
Eventually Xavier and Anson stopped trying to approach me and we returned to strangers. When I would see Anson walking by, I had a strong desire to reach out and mend things. I wanted everything to go back to how it was, but nothing would ever be the same. How could it be when the issue lies in me and my fear of closeness? So instead I said nothing. I would watch as he passed, hoping that he would approach me and becoming disappointed when he walked by without so much as a look in my direction.
It wasn't as though we were close in public to begin with. We simply had the same instructor and would meet up for lessons. Outside of meeting up in my room for that, we never interacted. Despite this, I felt the emptiness so deeply that it made no sense. Nothing at the academy had changed but I felt the loneliness that I had managed to ignore until now. It became a permanent resident in my heart and mind. No matter how much I tried to chase it away with logical arguments, it would not budge, gradually becoming the only company I had left.
Focusing on my studies I ignored the feeling as best as I could. It worked to a degree. I was able to concentrate on my revision and pass the end of year exams with flying colours. My scores were far beyond the cut-off point which gave me some satisfaction, even if I was still miles away from some. I convinced myself that this was proof that my pain had meaning. I was being paid back for all of my difficulties. What this meant however, was that the end of the academic year had started.
It felt like just yesterday that I was packing my bags to return to the academy, and now I was packing once again to go back to my 'home'. This past year I had avoided replying to any letters from my family, and now I had to face them during the holidays. I could feel the awkwardness that would come with my appearance. Pretending to be someone I am not is painful. That's the main reason why I had ignored all of their attempts at contact. I couldn't comfortably pretend to be the Max they knew, and exploit their kindness when I was nothing but a fraud. Now that was exactly what I had to do. No matter how I behaved, I needed to be the Max they knew. I had to fit into the past that doesn't exist for me. I was weaving myself into their lives and assuming the identity of a loved one. But the familial love would never be aimed at me; that too was painful.