SPPE LIEN NAGOL part UN

A final post on the strangest of fixations I have yet known. A final one.

It's been a long road.


From the first time I saw him, all of those 3 years or so ago, I was enchanted. He had on the usual--black shirt and bluejeans, standing awkwardly on stage and reciting a few lines. I'm sure I'm not the only one, the first or last, to've felt this way about him; the shy, seemingly humble and kooky character known as Logan. True, he's still rather perplexing to me, but I think not in the way that he would wish it so.

We never talked, though--exchanged a polite hello here and there when we happened to be in the same premises, but never any conversation or catching of the eye, and so we went our own ways. A year or so after I initially "met" him (met as in knew of his existance) we became friends. We talked online, and he gave me rides to and from the fall play of my Junior year of high school. Soon enough we were putting our creative minds together, collaborating on what would be known as the failed project of Saving Constance. I began thinking of him as nothing more than a good friend and even brotherly--sure he was good looking, but I'd rather not interrupt the relationship he himself had going for him, much less our friendship. I also had romantic ambitions in another direction that I had hoped would work out, and inevitably did not.

Some time during the break of that winter (2003), Logan decided to call it quits on his dead-end, two year relationship with another girl of my year. My friends were anxious to know what I was going to do about it--they later told me that they'd thought I'd already had feelings for him just by how good of friends we were--constantly hanging out together, riding to all sorts of places and so forth. I said I didn't have any intentions to do anything about it; I myself was just getting out of what I considered a very heavily involved relationship, and wasn't sure of my feelings. For one, I knew it would look bad to get with him immidiately after his breakup with such a lovely, honorable girl. For another, I didn't want to use him in the heat of passion, pretending he was someone else and crushing him is he was interested in more. Also, I was made aware by a friend that another friend of mine, Lauren, had developed feelings for him on-stage, but anytime I insinuated things of it to her she'd deny it completely. I should mention that Lauren and I had started hanging out, and were developing a blooming friendship. I decided to give her some time with that, and space it out for at least a month, so that I could be true with what I wanted, make sure he knew what he wanted (instead of the both of us using each other as rebounds), and give the third party a chance as well.

As it turns out, things didn't happen quite that way. We ended up getting together on New Years, a little over a week after his initial break-up and just a few weeks after I cut off a low-key something-or-other with Aaron. Of course, being drunk off of our asses that night, we thought we were being sneaky, but by the time school was back in session everyone knew what was up. Betrayal, they whispered. Everyone had a different story, and everyone had a say about it. It was because of this that I chose not to accompany him to the Sweetheart dance which he so deperately wanted to attend, but I met him there anyways, and we made a night of it.

Besides all of the outer conflicts, things started out wonderfully. He seemed so genuine--telling me he'd always dreamed of us together, and how he remembered seeing me for the first time, and thinking how I was different from everyone else--special--and that he wanted us to last forever. The forever was very unsettling for me: he was making plans for us in our college years when I barely knew what was going to happen a week from now. Because I told him to stop planning so far ahead and focus on the now, he began to think I was less dedicated to "us" than he. In actuallity, he claimed to be into our relationship completely, but he would arrive hours late for our dates, or even completely forget about them, countless times, and act as though it were no big deal. Despite my pleas to him that this was not acceptable behavior, and that it was imparative that he go through with his words and be consistant in his efforts towards our relationship. I suppose he began making assumptions about me, because now that I was fully invested into letting us be official, and not caring what everyone else thought which had plagued me so earlier, he had another girl escort him publically on his Winter King nomination: Lauren.

Alright, I thought to myself, he already swore to me that he would never go out with her if we weren't to work out, so I don't have to worry about losing her friendship. Eventually, though, his carelessness of time value drew me so far up the wall that on the last night of our lovely relationship, after waiting on him for 6 hours and having only one hour left for the night, I called "us" off. Coincidentally, that was THE night, so long ago now. I was afraid he was going to cry; the poor fellow was distraught and had never seen it coming. I told him that he had done too little to prove he was sacrificing his all, as I had surely done with my reputation and friends, so be dedicated to our being together. I had waited on him so long, been patient for such a long time that I had no patients or time to wait left. I told him that he'd assumed too much and too little of me--he hadn't even asked me if I wanted to escort him, and I told him I would have been honored to do so. He said he thought I'd reject him again, so he didn't even try. If he didn't even try to make that effort, what effort was he going to try to make in our relationship? So, that was our first break up.

And sadly, nott our last.

Two days later I took him back, feeling weak and sorry for the poor fellow, who'd taken to writing my a lengthy love letter and a few burnt CDs. Wow. Big effort, but it wasn't nearly enough as it should have been. Not even in the same ballpark. As time progressed, our relationship became more and more of a rollarcoaster, and becomes a hazy blur now, in my memory, with the ferociousness of it all. He'd taken to "joking" with my friends about how terrible a person I was whenever they made silly remarks, which friends do, and honestly thought I'd never learn of it. He'd also taken to calling me names, such terrible, brutish names...and I was so weak I just let him do it, without raising a hand or furrowing a brow. Stupid whore. Fucking retarded bitch. Mind, we were in a relationship during all of this, on again and off again. One minute he'd tell me I was everything to him, and he didn't want anything else, and the next minute he never wanted to see me face again. We'd get into arguements about silly things. That isn't how the band name is pronounced. Let's take Short St instead of Perrine. Are you giving me a ride to school tomorrow? I began to think that maybe I deserved to be called those names. I began to feel that all of my friends were just pretending to be my allies, and that I was, well, honestly worthless. I wondered if anyone would notice if they never saw me again.

My friends began to wonder where I'd gone. I was there physically, but mentally I was far from it. No more was I cracking wise remarks, or bursting with laughter, or displaying a wild, bright smile. It felt as though my spirit had completely deserted me, or that it had never belonged to me anyways. Maybe this was all I truly was. In these days I felt crazy; truly mad. One minute I was sitting on the computer, and the next I was running down the street as fast as I could, tears blurring my vision, and I didn't care. Anything to get away from this hatred. Anything to get away from this Hell that I was in.

Finally, one day, on the brink of a countless internet battle (which was always one sided), I fought back. Typing the same gibbirish that had been thrown at me for so long, I felt like a complete imbusil, yet at the same time.....free. Renewed. Uplifted. Free.

That was May of 2004. He tried to get in touch with me a few times later that year, saying how incredibly sorry he was, an how he wanted our friendship renewed, but I'd just reply to him with a copy of our last conversaion, and he'd retort with his same old material. As...juvenile as the our conversation had been, I was proud of myself for having stuck up to him, and getting out of our relationship alive, and I truly mean that. My friends were glad to have me back, after such a psychological hiatus, and recieved me with open arms. I learned that the whole time I did indeed have support, all around, but my perception had been so clouded with Logan's verbal abuse that I had been completely unaware. No, it was not an imidiate change. It took me a long time to recooperate from such an extreme situation. In fact, nearly a year. But I did it. No, I was never the same again. I've since learned that sometimes you can't go back to the way things were before--you just have to move on and look towards the future, because too much has happened to even think about going back.