Friday, October 12, 2007


I'd like to think I'm not really a creep. But I do creepy stuff sometimes. Nothing I care to go into though. But part of writing is revisiting painful incidents far more often than is at all sane. Earlier this semester I had a writing assignment that while beginning humorous ended in a scene of painful lost love. That scene touched my heart a little and reminded me of all my lost loves. And then I had to revisit it. Again the painfully emotional scene hitting me. Then again, revisiting it. More painful emotional scene hitting. And then more revisiting, etc. Not very nice stuff. But that's what I writer's got to be doing. So yeah, creep.

I have a vague recollection of when that song came out, I think it was my early high school years, although apparently it was done in 1992 or 93, so that would have to be a good deal back before my school years, maybe around middle school or even tail end of elementary school. But I guess it was in high school my musicality was at its peak (or at least at its peak for that period, I'm having a new Renaissance of musicality right now) and so that was when I heard that Radiohead song, Creep. It struck a cord.

Apparently, the songwriter was talking about gender-identity issues with the song, least that's what he said. I took the song as sort of an outsider unrequited love song (part of the reason for my differing interpretation is probably because the radio edit changed a line from "You're so fucking special" to "You're so very special" but I get into some of that below). And so it felt very natural to me, who felt perpetually the outsider, and who in his early high school years had some unrequited love. I've talked about one case of this before, in my Here is Gone session, but as I noted there, that was about my second heartbreak, but this song resounds more accurately and more tightly with my first heartbreak, and so it is in the light of that I'm going to do some explicating (explication nation, what's your temptation).

Creep by Radiohead from the album Pablo Honey

When you were here before

She didn't just appear, she had been my friend for a long time, since elementary school. We used to walk home together, maybe around 3rd or 2nd grade. During 4th grade and 5th to some degree there was a separation of boys and girls and so to a degree we lost touch. But we still went to the same schools and greeted each other with friendship. In eighth grade I actually thought she would be the ideal person to have a crush on, and to a degree I suppose I harvested those emotions. But by the end of summer I had largely forgot of the matter. Until of course, school resumed and I saw her again. But those feelings had a different flavor to them, an intensity that I wasn't used to, which I embraced as love.

Couldn't look you in the eye

But while I embraced the feelings, I couldn't stand staying in her presence. I hated myself, I hated myself viciously, and being near her seemed just another opportunity for me to fail at my efforts of contact. Worse yet, it was an opportunity for her to see the person I thought I was, an utter monster. A creep if you will. (and I will, for I am RAND.)

You're just like an angel

I idealized her utterly and completely. It was from a distance of course so I couldn't assign to her definite idealized characteristics, so instead I assigned to her all idealized traits. I imagined her like an angel. A creature of utter purity. The only real traits I can assign to her is that she's kind and strongly social competent (she has a social comfortableness that is enviable, at least by one such as me), but it's hard for me to really fix her character beyond that because of all my idealization. So I thought of her like an angel. It's such a hollow description really, especially without any theology behind it, but I never had enough courage to make my emotions anything more than hollow.

Your skin makes me cry

Always with skin. It tends to be regarded as so important. As for the obvious matter. Yes, she was white, and yes I'm brown, but that really had no importance for anything, although I was paranoid about it. But in a more teenage sense skin mattered otherwise. I always hated my skin's oils and pimples. I can't say I'm too fond of them now, but I can tolerate my skin since I don't have much acne anymore. But back then, it was quite a bit. It added to my whole, I hate myself, and especially my body thing, and so it didn't help that she was beautiful. I can't even remember if truthfully she had no acne, but she certainly had less than me, what is true is her skin seemed perfect to me. She seemed beautiful and I felt unforgivably ugly.

You float like a feather
In a beautiful world

She hung out with a more popular crowd, I on the other hand. I didn't really have a crowd. I suppose this is the point I should say I was fat (or thought myself as such), given the feather analogy, etc. But everything about her, the people she hung out with, the way she looked, the way she carried itself. It seemed so immensely better than everything that was me.

And I wish I was special

Back then I felt anonymous, insignificant, and pointless. I can't say I don't have those emotions now sometimes.

Youre so (very) fuckin special

She seemed on the other hand to be at the center of her own little world, and it was a damn nice world. The original version of this song I listened to (that is not to say the original version of the song itself, but the radio edit), used very instead of fuckin'. It does take the edge off this verse. I can't say I was angry at her for these emotions, but I was angry at myself for not acting on them, and I was angry at the universe for making me me.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.

I've never been quite normal in any social circle, and that sense of isolation, so heightened during high school and complemented with anxiety and self-hate. I felt I was a creep. I can't say I really was one. Probably the actually creepiest thing I did was, well, I didn't follow her, but I would remember where I saw her at certain times of the day. We all have our little habits after all. And I'd just try to be near her at that time of the day. I wouldn't want her to see me, because then she might think I was stalking her, or worse yet might engage me in conversation, but rather I just wanted to get a glimpse of her. My emotions would fill me then, and I'd get an invigorated euphoria that would fade the moment she left my sight and I remembered how lonely I felt.

What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here.

Yeah, I can say I didn't belong. I didn't have a clique or anything in that sense. But really when it comes down to belonging on this earth, what is the criteria. If you're a human being, that gives you a certain necessity of spending some time on earth doesn't it. If you're born, doesn't that give you the right to belong to the living? And if you have a soul doesn't that give you a right to belong to God's children.

I don't care if it hurts

This line always reminds me of pimple popping, especially in combination with the perfect skin line. It was a nasty habit of mine, especially since I knew excessive pimple popping actually aggravated the acne. But I wanted so badly to feel pain. It fed the hatred so completely and satisfied it as well. A nice little vicious cycle. (just like a demon bike)

I want to have control

I've always had problems of control. Controlling my eating, my laziness, most of all my mental illness. Life always seemed to come so easily for everyone else, for her. However, that is one of those nice little lies we tell ourselves to makes us feel nicely persecuted. Everyone has problems, it's best not to try to rank them.

I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul

As much as I hated my body when depressed, I hated my soul even more. Because when I was in the depths of depression I believed I was an absolute monster barely contained. It was a good way to justify my self-hatred even though I believed people should be judged on their internal goodness and not their external appearances.

I want you to notice
When I'm not around

That was always something for me. I wanted to feel like I made a difference in the world and that without me people would be worse off. I suppose it is true, but on the other hand. On the other hand during my periodic absences from social life during breakdowns, nobody seemed really to care. But on the plus side, they did seem to enjoy my company. Still, it would be nice, if people noticed when I wasn't around, especially her. (Of course, you people, my loyal readers would notice when I'm not around, eh? Ah, bums! Meh, in the end it doesn't matter if people care when you're not around, God notices when you withdraw into yourself, when you breakdown, and He offers to carry you through the pain, as I have found out time and time again)

You're so (very) fuckin' special
I wish I was special

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here.

She's running out again,
She's running out
She's run run run running out...

Let me tell you the story of how I confessed to her. My buddy Howard says it shows me as brave. I'd disagree. Anyways, in my high school and even middle school we had various services which would deliver cards and presents to those whom you had crushes on or just wanted to give a present to. I actually did give her cards for years since eighth grade up to sophmore year. However I always kept it as from a secret admirer. Until that final card. Sophmore year I decided to sign it as myself. And so she found out about my feelings. And then... I passionately avoided her for the rest of the year and the summer. Yeah, I really don't think the story depicts me as brave. But then junior year came around. The beginning of every year I always tend to be somewhat manic. So I had a great idea, why not invite everyone in the school to a party? It didn't work out so well, well, no it was fun, even if only 4 people came. But I had invited her, and then, then I was rejected.

Whatever makes you happy
Whatever you want

To make a girl I like happy, that's just awesome. To see her smile. I've always had trouble reading facial expressions, but I know a smile is a smile. And so I give gifts, I tell jokes, I do anything to make them smile. But unfortunately I rarely listen to them, I usually am so self-absorbed, and so obsessed with the emotion of love, I forget to some degree about the actual girl. Perhaps really then, it wasn't love with this girl, just being in love with the feeling of love. With later girls I liked I've tried to listen more, and I consider my feelings more legitimate, but perhaps it's just the pains in that period leave me as somewhat cynical about that period in my life

Youre so fuckin special
I wish I was special...

But Im a creep, Im a weirdo,
What the hell am I doing here?
I dont belong here.
I dont belong here.

And then after confessing to her and being rejected, after the party that didn't work out as I had planned, and after failing to really resolve a conflict between two people I cared about, my depression grew to a point where it became to much. I've always wanted control, especially for those moments like this when depression is this overwhelming. But I didn't have self-control. And so, well, let me not relate the exact details, but I resolved to kill myself. But in the end, I didn't even have the self-control for that. I was too afraid of pain, and so I resolved that I would try to overdose on my medicine. But then my father came home and stopped me. And then I was hospitalized.

That experience casts a taint over this period, and over my relations with that girl. When she rejected me she said it was because she didn't want to ruin our friendship. She also made several other efforts to reach out to me as a friend. I sort of ignored them. It was hard to think of her without thinking of that period in my life when I became obsessed with my emotions of love for her, and ultimately ended up hospitalized. It's a shame though. Friendships are something highly valuable, and not to be discarded. So maybe someday, when I become a little bit more mature I renew my friendship with that girl. Is that day today? Maybe, one never knows what the future might bring.

So anyways, that's the story of my first heartbreak. There's some lessons in there if you want to take them, I don't feel like spelling them out explicitly. I always wonder what could have been though, but that's usually a useless conjecture, not worthy of Rand the mighty and glorious.

So anyways, take it to your head, take it to your heart and remember Rand rocks. Goodnight Folks!

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