Author and Columnist
[...] these friends feel the need to choose who is more their friend and treat the other prior friend as some annoying and clingy freak.
Yes, this is common, especially at your age. People do not care for shades of gray. It is easier not to confront that both parties have points and have been mistreated by the other. To your credit, I cannot recall too many times when you have been guilty of this -- when you chose one party over the other -- though I can think of one where you all but demanded it after a breakup. This did not help matters and was unfair, but you felt entitled as the aggrieved party.
That said, judging only by what you write, I affirm that you come off as an annoying and clingy freak.
As is to often my wont to remark, a person can be this remarkable and amazing creature that blows you away in every gesture but people are inherently dumb animals.
Yes, that is a paraphrase of the 1997 movie Men in Black. It is not a particularly original thought there, but we must cite our sources.
It's herd mentality, it does not allow for much thinking outside the box. Hell, it doesn't allow for one to acknowledge one is within a box, which is kind of pathetic in itself. I just want to scream "It's not real!" but I know the box-lurkers won't really understand. Such is the nature of box dwelling.
What adorable little Light Bringer you think you are to all those people chained in the cave, ignoring how often you affix shackles to your legs because you've convinced yourself that you needed an accessory to complete your ensemble.
I think that I am somewhat fantasy-centered. Not in a pathological way. At least as far as I understand, but I could be in denial.
You think? Somewhat? Could be?
If ever there was a double-edged sword in your life, it is this. For one, I am now an established fantasy author. I excel at speculative fantasy. A single morsel of a strange idea occurs to me, and, depending on my mood, time, and pitch, I can riff for ten thousand words in a day. (This is not an exaggeration; I did this a few months ago without breaking a sweat.)
On the other hand, you hide beneath magical thinking. In part, this is unconscious, an aspect of your mental health issues that you are a decade from confronting. Your inclination to fantasy will keep you in situations that erode you because you can phrase them into pseudo-mystical adventures. After being liberated, you will have to spend a year becoming authentic -- perhaps for the first time in your adult life-- releasing the carapace of a story where you are a hero owed a happy ending.
What made me finally write about it was that I was listening to the My So-Called Life CD. [...] Then I realized that I could barely remember the theme song and it was included on this CD. [...] Some cool synths, guitar chords. All very lovely. cymbals, flourishes, cool beat. Chant like singing in the back. Tears. Kind of a life affirming beat on the drums... Tears? What was that?! I'm getting frickin' misty over My So-Called Life?
I had this same experience last year. I wish I could tell you what that is about, but I have no idea. That theme song just twists the Emotion switch in my brain.
Now to dorms. Or rather, that I may not be living in them next year owing to a severe housing shortage at my chosen alma mater
You never live on campus. You spend nights on or near campus, but New Paltz students do not seem to have much use for anyone whose bed they could not walk to within ten minutes. You feel isolated and cheated as you were sure that you were owed the college experience of your fantasies.
You resent this lack far too long.
I explained to her, after speaking 86 words a minute non-stop and randomly, that talking to her causes me to lose every ounce of cool I otherwise possess in the company of non-Kate entities because she brings every emotion I have to a boil in my mouth and brain and thus she drives me to be a huge dork. Except I confessed it a great deal less eloquently, if that is possible. Her retort, "That's okay, I like dorks."
Kate has a worse effect on your brain than W.G. Snuffy Walden's "My So-Called Life Theme (Sing Unto The Lord)."
Um... hope?
Nope.