Saturday, September 4, 2010


Take us to 500 meters and hold.

Okay, I'm not actually living in a submarine, but it certainly feels a bit like that, what with the rekindling of an old friendship and him coming at me full-throttle to work on a project together. I feel as though I'm trapped in closed quarters with someone I used to know, but may not know so well now, who is demanding a kind of intimacy.

No, no...Nothing like that. Terence knows I don't swing on that particular vine. It's just that he wants to collaborate for NaNoWriMo in November, and I'm not sure he's fully understanding of my life as it is right now. I'd love to get involved in a project with him, but what happened if a part of my body self-destructs? It's not beyond the realm of possibility. I would be completely dismayed if I should commit to the project, then find myself unable to follow through, and leave him hanging. It's unfair to him.

There's also the paranoia that exists in my mind. We've been out of touch, and I have no idea if he actually still holds a grudge for the way I treated him in the past. I've written about this. I was a complete jerk to him. He wasn't 100% innocent, but I always managed to be worse.

For example, there was a holiday season in which some of my friends piled into my car, and we went off to get Terence. The idea was to go back to Bryan's place for a little Christmas celebrating. But once we'd picked him up, Terence sat in the back seat and made a nuisance of himself. I can't even remember what he was doing; I just remember it making me so angry that I pulled over and told him to get out of my car. In fact, I shouted it.

Oh...and we were equidistant between his and Bryan's house...and there was a snow storm in progress.

On we went with our celebration, and I refused to let what happened between Terence and I ruin anything. We were enjoying ourselves thoroughly when there was a knock at the door. It was Terence. And the first thing he did was approach me, hand me a present, and wish me a happy holidays. I felt like crap, and rightfully so.

That was just one incident among many, and eventually he refused to talk to me at all. There were a few times when I tried to reach out to him, and thought I'd been successful, only to have him cut all communication again. All I could do was accept his judgment and miss my friend.

Now the creatively paranoid part of my mind is at work. Is Terence seeking some kind of revenge, and using NaNoWriMo as his cover? Okay, hear me out. It's not beyond the realm of possibility. You see, Terence is a published writer. Fiction is not his thing, although it could be if he so desired. He used to marvel at my imagination, so this is the part where he tries to tap it, making what contributions he wants...and then walks off with the finished product, gets it published, keeps all the money, and sends me taunting notes. "How do you like it now, you insulting bastard?"

Well, I may be disabled and medicated, but I'm not dumb. Even the closest of friends should go into a potentially profitable venture with a contract. You could be a pair of conjoined twins...Money will find a way to tear people apart. Thus, my last message to Terence was not only a warning about what he may be getting into with me, but I suggested he start working on a contract that we can sign.

I just hope nothing I say upsets him. That's my last intent in the world. I mean, if I end up hurting his feelings, there are few places to hide on this sub.

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