Doug: I want.

I sit here and listen as brantner plays evanesance off heather’s IPod. I can hear the words, and I know the song well. Emotional, beautiful, soul rending. Maybe not soul rending, but a good song none the less. We’ve been drinking since ten, it’s now two oh eight. I’ve done nothing but bitch about how bitter I am about the Adrienne situation all night. Still, we played darts. We ate a good dinner at sSulzy’s. we watched the huskies get their shit wrecked by ASU. This is my life. Tomorrow I’m going to go out and try and find a car. I will survive this. I swear I will. I won’t let this break me, because I’m better than that. I don’t know why I feel this way. I wasn’t in love with this girl. Not for a second. Maybe it’s because I valued her on the same level as Marty, or Abe. A friendship so powerful it could accomplish anything. I trusted her, and because I trusted her my violation of her trust is so devastating. I don’t want to be this guy. Wasting my life thinking of a girl. But here I am, typing away at this stupid blog I wont even post. I’ve got to solve this or it’s going to kill me. One way or another, this has got to end soon. I’m not sure I can handle the things eating away at my brain. There’s monsters up there, and every single one of them is my own creation.

I built this armor, and this reputation. Yet, as I discover everything about the consequences of what I’ve created, the less and less inclined I am to value it. I certainly never want to be the scared kid with no experience. But there’s not much to be said for the experienced bitter guy either. I feel. I feel? What is this, some kind of sick pity party? I need to get over myself and clear my head. Get in the game. Well. At least get over the things I’ve done. But it’s true. As Admiral Adama says, “Sooner or later, you can’t hide from the things you’ve done.” Man was he right. That was another thing we were supposed to do. Watch Battlestar all the way through. Guess that’s never going to happen. Now Marty’s punching the air and I’m kind of freaked out. But I’m drunk enough not to worry. In fact. I’m drunk enough not to worry about most things. I mean, clearly everything will be okay, because that’s how it’s been before. Every time I do something serious, God, fate, or whoever gives me a good ending. It’s like… I dunno, being able to have infinite do overs. Probably there’s a justification for my behavior there, but really, what if I don’t get to do this one over? What if I don’t get a second chance? I almost can’t wrap my brain around the consequences of that one. What if my actions have permanently damaged something? Will I grow up and face it? Or will I just brush it off and go on playing god with people’s emotions?

I know what Adrienne would say. We used to play games. Who could be the most horrible. We used to think we were so superior, emotionless, uncomplicated people that were better than the rest of the peons around us. But she didn’t know. I knew, but I didn’t care. Because, while I love who I love, I feel like I’m not bound by the same sense of morality. She’d have two responses. One is the robot. “Of course you should be evil, armored, invincible. You’re an evil mindless robot.” But there would be that other answer too. The one she would give in all seriousness. “Get your shit together Wood. I used to think you were better than this, until you proved me wrong.”

I know who I should believe. I know who I should listen to. Even drunk Doug Wood knows that. But I did spend all this time investing in the dark side. It seems a shame to waste all that emotional adjustment. But the fact remains. I know what’s right and what’s wrong. Doesn’t mean I’ll follow it all the time. Just means I know.

I’m not perfect. But god damn it. I want my friend back.

-Doug