Chapter 32
These Bridges Are Burning

Crunchy got on my bad side tonight, and you know, it wasn’t different than any other night but I guess I’m overly sensitive lately. I was fully prepared to give him the silent treatment because I was really mad. I couldn’t bring myself to talk to him. He wanted to know what was wrong, what he did to make me mad and I told him not right then, wait five minutes. Which he did, in fact he waited 15 minutes. I didn’t feel like talking to him about it in front of Oreo and her friend but he finally got it out of me about half an hour later. I just told him he hurt my feelings and I had pretty much had it for the night. We are fine now, I can never stay mad at him for long, though when I am mad I feel like I could keep going forever…I guess I still don’t understand myself. I found out tonight though that Crunchy doesn’t care what people think about him. I asked him how this could be since just that night he was all worried that I was mad at him and kept saying that he couldn’t take it. He said that he didn’t care what I thought about him but he did care if he hurt my feelings. See I’m the opposite, to hell with your feelings, I don’t say things because I care about what you think of me. It’s the only reason people are saved from my true opinion of them. I also told Crunchy that he needs tact; he’s not too good in that department.
One of my friends came into town for graduation; she came over tonight and was mad at me for not calling her when I got out of my final so I let her rub my arm. She seems to think that I have really soft arms so she started to rub them and Oreo asked why I let her touch my wrist (I have a thing about wrists, have I not mentioned it before?). I pointed out that she was not touching my wrist and suddenly Crunchy was grabbing my arm and squeezing it. He was like, “yeah they are really soft.” I asked him why he was squeezing my arm and he said to see how soft they were. He then compared my arm to everyone else’s and kept saying it must be some genetic defect and I told him it was just fat build up in my arm. He insisted that it wasn’t fat but a genetic defect. Then he tried to pull the skin on my elbow and that’s where I drew the line, no one pulls my elbow skin!
It occurred to me that I need to pack up my car tomorrow because I am leaving on Saturday. What a depressing thought. I’m not ready to go, I’m not ready to give this part of my life up, and I’m not ready to leave behind these people. I want more time. I need more time. Sometimes I feel like I just reached this great point in my life where all the important relationships have developed to the status of ‘healthy’. I don’t want to start all over, I like the people I have right now, I wish that I could just pack them into my car and take them with me. But I know that they don’t want to come to Virginia, just as I don’t want to stay away from home any longer. But part of me contemplates what in the world I am going to do in Virginia and maybe I shouldn’t be going there. I will probably feel different tomorrow when my parents get here. I just have this feeling of what life is going to be like back home. The only way I can think of to describe this feeling is Saturday mornings when you are little and all you want to do is watch cartoons but your mom is making you clean…pretty much for the whole morning. The windows are open, it smells like spring and you are shoving stuff under your bed and into your closet trying to trick your mom into thinking you’ve done a good job. It’s probably the worst day of the week; you’d choose school over having to spend your morning like this. I’ve never liked Saturdays and I’m just worried that home will be full of unwanted Saturdays.
I just have to keep telling myself that it’s for the best that this is where I need to be, for some undetermined amount of time. But I still want more time here.