stuck in a moment, and you can't get out of it
5:06 pm - June 19, 2003

This is going to be somewhat of a long entry because I just got my computer back-- it had 3 different viruses, eek! But it's clean now. I was tidying up my room the other day, and I found a box with this letter inside: (long...)

Dear Jay,

I don�t know how to put this into words, exactly...maybe it�s better if I just say it. I love you. No matter how much I try to fool myself, how much I try and hide it from everyone around me, I�m in love with you.

It wasn�t love at first sight. I didn�t even know who you were until seventh grade. Then it just happened. It wasn�t a crush for very long. It moved straight to something that I didn�t understand then, but I do now. I felt things about you that I didn�t know how to deal with, so I cast it aside as a weird crush and tried to let it go. I had myself convinced for awhile, until I realized just how much it hurt every time you went out with another girl.

When Austin asked me out in eighth grade, even though I wasn�t sure I actually liked him, I said yes, because I figured maybe it would give me a chance to get over you for good. I couldn�t stand it. Somehow I had known that he would never be what I wanted, or needed. I broke up with him after two weeks because he wouldn�t hold me or kiss me, wouldn�t even hold my hand. He was too shy and I was too broken over you to even try.

I remember all of these little things that you probably didn�t even take notice of. At Tryon Creek, I used to give you my gloves, because my hands were always warm and yours were always cold. In eighth grade Spanish class, you failed a test because you were on the wrong side. It was an important test, but Jan wouldn�t let you re-take it. When we went outside to play kickball, I faked a sore ankle and convinced Jan to let you take it again, because I hated to see you upset. When Jan told you, you ran across the playing field and you hugged me, and I was so shocked, but happy. You were going out with Sara, and everybody looked so shocked to see you hugging another girl. In seventh grade, you used to sing �Everybody� by the Backstreet Boys, God, I hated that song, but after you sang it so many times, I started to like it.

Then there was the time I told you I liked you. God, that was stupid and so immature and not how I wanted it to come out at all. It was supposed to be some clever, coy thing, but instead, I sounded like an eight year old. �It�s me. I like you.� I still remember what I said in the e-mail. I hated myself for weeks after that, but I loved you all the more, because you kept to what I asked you� you didn�t let anything change.

During eighth grade graduation, I wasn�t thinking about high school or what middle school had been like. I was thinking about you. Thinking, wondering, wishing. When I sang �I Turn To You�, I wanted to sing it to you. I wanted to be able to sing it to you.

The eighth grade dance. We danced, for a half of a song. It was �I Wanna Know�, by Joe, and for the four months after the dance, I cried every time I heard it. I wanted to be with you. I wanted to be in your arms. I wanted you to be in love with me.

The summer after eighth grade was hell for me. I wanted to see you so many times, but I didn�t know how to go about it. I wanted to casually ask you out, just to see a movie or shop or take a walk or something, not as a date, but as friends, because there was the possibility that it would grow to be more. When ninth grade started, we started talking again, and even though I told myself there would be other guys for me to like in high school, some part of me knew that it was just you. Only you.

We sang �Where You Are� and I was so happy. I wanted to tell you so many times while we were practicing and talking, but I didn�t know how. After we sang, people came up to me and asked if we were dating. I had to tell them no, but I wanted to tell them yes. When I said no, they asked why, and I just shrugged and smiled. I didn�t know. They saw it, I saw it, and it seemed like you were the only one who didn�t.

�Our Song�. I wrote it for you. We work well together, you know. The first time I heard the music, the words came into my head. I want it to be our song.

I don�t want to freak you out, although I�ve probably done a good job of that already. I love you, and I know you don�t love me. I�ve gotten used to that. I�ll never be okay with it, but I�ll deal. You inspire me. All of the love songs I write are for you, in one way or another. Love isn�t something to be taken lightly, and I�ve thought about it over and over to make sure that I�m not just trying to convince myself that this is love. I�m not. It is. I love you.

Whoa. Seriously crazy. I thoroughly convinced myself that I loved Jay, and now I'm 99% sure I don't even have a tiny crush on him anymore. How's that for some perspective? How do we know that anything we feel is real, when the things in that letter felt so real, and now I don't feel anything close to that?

If I ever get the chance to give advice to kids my age, it will be to try, just try to not take things so seriously. Ha, right. Let's see if I can even follow my own advice! It's just that when you're in the moment, everything and anything can seem so overpowering and all-important. How do you draw a line, make a distinction, between what's momentary emotion and true feelings? For about four years, I thought I loved Jay, but a couple of months after I met Bryan, talking to Jay didn't hurt anymore. I guess it wasn't instantaneous-- like I said, it was a couple of months after I met Bryan that I "got over" Jay. But still. Four years of emotion, gone in two months? There had to be something fake there, something I fooled myself into thinking. How do we make ourselves see and feel the truth? What's the truth? Hello, TOK class all over again.

I got a piece of mail yesterday, it was those letters we wrote during the A Choir retreat at the beginning of this past year to our future selves. Mine:

Hey, me--

I'm not quite sure what to write-- I'm on the '02-'03 A-Choir retreat. Hopefully by the time I get this I will have resolved the issue with you-know-who and also with math because everything is really stressful right now. Hopefully I will have done tons more recording and tried out for American Idol. Maybe I'll be getting ready to go to Europe and maybe I'll know how to drive. Bye!

Love, Katie

Hmm. Well, two or two and a half out of three isn't bad. I resolved the situation with you-know-who(Jay), I guess. I fixed my problems with math and switched classes. And I kinda sorta know how to drive--put it this way. If there was an emergency and my mom's car was available, I could drive.

Bryan sent me an e-mail from his cruise to the Bahamas. Literally from the cruise ship, in the middle of the night because he couldn't sleep, using the Internet that apparently costs 50 cents/minute. He spent about $20 typing an e-mail to me. Crazy? Yep. Sweet? Yep.

Yay. :)