As Cammy writes to herself in her journal, she discovers something about herself that might be potentially harmful to some relationships. What is it?
I wiped a bead of sweat from my pulsing head. Nothing worse could happen to me except another cruel dream that seemed so lifelike that I could recall every specific detail, every word lingering in my hurt ears. It was a ghastly feeling to find your best friend with the girl you loved for the majority of your life. Nothing even compared.
And as I sat up, breathing heavily with a terrified expression, I realized that Cammy and Brendon were watching me with curious eyes. They had come back, still damp with rain, and had been waiting for me to awake for a while. I could tell by their positions; they had time to get comfortable.
“Are you okay, Ry?” She asked me, worried.
“Yeah…Just a nightmare, that’s all,” I replied, propping myself up on my elbows, looking at them both, as the rain slowed. “What the Hell? It looks like you guys went swimming,” I laughed, pretending I hadn’t seen anything before.
Every time I looked at them, I was brought back to my dream. The fire in their eyes, the spike of rage in Cammy’s voice, the passionate kiss they had been locked in before I interrupted them, and the lust they looked at each other with. Maybe I even saw a little bit of it now.
“What were you dreaming about? You look pretty disturbed as Hell, Ry,” Brendon asked me.
“I thought I…” I began. “I thought I died. I don’t want to get into the details.”
In a way it was true. If I had lost Cammy to someone else, I died inside. I had no need to live on, no reason to pretend I was happy.
“Oh, it was that scary?” Cammy questioned.
“Yeah,” I admitted to them, a little bit embarrassed. There I was, twenty three years old, acting like I was a young child. But I knew I couldn’t tell them what I had dreamt about.
It was too painful for me to bear, and too much for them to comprehend.
I longed to know what he had dreamed about. The normal Ry didn’t hide things from us; as far as I knew, anyway. But in my fantasy land where nothing real happened, he loved me, had loved me all along, and always would. But fantasies would always be illusory, never to really happen. Unless they were reality based, and assuming Ry had meant what he said to me, they weren’t in the least. All I had were my friends to hold me up when I was leaning, and my friends only. No one would ever hold me like Ryan held Keltie, like Pete was willing to hold Moony, and I so desperately wished I had someone like that.
“I should get going, guys,” I announced. “I have to go check on Noodle.”
“Are you sure you can’t stay longer?” Brendon pleaded with me, his eyes hopeful.
“I didn’t get much time to talk to you, Cams,” Ryan stated. “I tried to get Keltie to give me a little room, but, you know how she is…”
“No, not really,” I replied, a sharp tone that I hadn’t intended to use arising.
“Sorry, Cammy,” He apologized, leaving me unsure if he was being sarcastic or not. “Really.”
“Me too,” I mumbled, just quiet enough under my breath that he they couldn’t hear me. “No, I really have to go. And it’s all right, Ry, I know what you meant. I’ll see you guys later,” I finished, walking down into the driveway that was twice as empty as earlier.
I opened the car door and sat down in the driver’s seat. Upon shoving the key in the ignition and turning it, the car roared to life, and I set out down the street to my lonely house, wishing things had been different.
Wishing things had been different.
I opened my front door and replaced the key under the flower pot on the ground. I walked in and threw my shoes off; relieved that I no longer had to deal with watching Keltie and Ryan seem to fall in love all over again, I took a seat on my couch and flicked the TV on. Remembering my excuse to come home, I got up again and filled Noodle’s food dish near the back door. I turned around and walked through the kitchen, noticing a sticky note on the refrigerator door.
I wuv you. Thanks for letting me eat your food.
I grinned and immediately went to go tack it on the bulletin board in my room. I sat on my inviting bed and pulled out my journal, still locked and in my nightstand drawer.
I fell asleep with Pete today in the meadow. The meadow Ry and I had always gone to when we wanted an escape, always just him and I, no one else. And I think it hurt him to know that Pete and I had broken that tradition of just him and me, but I had a great time otherwise. I just can’t help but feel guilty because when I found him in Brendon’s car, he looked as if he had been crying. It’s a terrible burden to carry on your shoulders, to know that you’ve made one that you love cry.
On the topic of Brendon, we went for a walk down that so familiar street I had been down so many times previously. He told me that he was sure that I would fall in love one day; just not necessarily with Ry. He told me that there were other people besides him, that I had to open my vision to everybody else on this planet. Maybe he and I weren’t meant to be, and I’m not quite ready to accept that just yet. I hope I will be able to someday, but not now.
As we walked, the rain began, beautiful and twinkling on our skin. He brought me to the middle of the deserted road and we danced like nothing mattered. A car could have come and run us over for all we cared, because we would have died together, happy and fulfilled. He was the same boy that I had always known since high school, a boy who had refused to accept change and remained himself unlike any of the rest of us. We’ve all changed in ways that we couldn’t help; everybody but him. He was the same youthful, curious Brendon Urie that we all knew. The same one that I shared numerous memories with. The same one I had fallen in love with.
That came out wrong. Completely, utterly wrong, I swear. When I said ‘the same one I had fallen in love with’, I meant…Well, I’m not sure. I just know that I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.
At least I think so.
I need to figure out who I am before I say anything about love. I have yet to discover myself, crevices and gaps in my mind that I had yet to understand. Overall, I didn’t know how anybody else could understand me when I couldn’t.
Everybody except for him.
Closing the book, I sighed and thought over what I had written.
Everybody except for him.
I still wasn’t sure who exactly I meant.
But it made me want to scream until my lungs burst; when that happened, I would piece them back together and yell again until they were incapable of being repaired.
Just for a minute, pretend you don’t know yourself. You don’t know what you like, who you want to be with, what you want to do with your life, where you want to be.
I just might be afraid of my emotions, and I think others may have realized it before me.
I was a knife unto myself, breaking my thoughts and emotions down without awareness.
Life doesn’t make sense when you can’t make sense of who you are.