Long Walk To Winchester Dorms

I walked out of Dylan's dorm, and walked blindly across a subsection of Main Quad Row, unable to smell this night's tangy autumn breeze, which was not blowing my aching thoughts away. I walked, because I couldn't sit still and I cried because I couldn't stop my tears.1

I love him. He knows it but he doesn’t know. There is something he said to me not to long ago that I keep playing in my head and it bothers me, because I have worked so hard at not feeling this for him. 2

“If it was real, Emmie, you couldn’t have pushed it away.”3

He’s wrong. I could, I did. For him, because he didn’t want me that way, he could never want me that way. He loves Calli, and so; as a good friend, I pressed those feelings down into a box so deep that I could forget it was there, usually. And then, well then Party Week happened.4

I hate Owin and Sarah. They didn't slip that drug into our drinks, or keep pouring our drinks for all of us, but they invited those people that did. They pushed at me and Dylan till I couldn't think straight and he was nearly falling down. I hate them not because they almost ruined our lives, our friendship. That is part of it. I don’t hate them because Dylan was in that joke of a hospital for alcohol poisoning for so long, or because I am now leaving my school to get some real help; that is also part of it. I want to hurt them, I want to push back all my up bringing and let my anger fly so that they no longer breath is because they took something I had been dreaming about and managed to twist it so that I can never think about Dylan that way ever again without feeling sick. There was a time when I would have done anything to show Dylan that part of me, that womanly part so he could get over his brotherly feelings but there is no hope of that now. I tried to explain it to him tonight that I was dirty and perverted because a part of me enjoyed it, wanted it! And it was not a part of me that had anything to do with some punch or some drugs or anything. My nightmares were ten times worse for me because I didn’t regret having sex with him, I just regretted that it had happened like that.5

And he kept pointing out that I should be talking about this with my boyfriend. Which is why I had left angry, because Benji would never understand what I meant. Dylan could finish my thoughts for me; Benji can barely remember what I like on my pizza.6

Comparing what I feel for him to what I feel for Benji is a waste. Of course what I feel for Benji is different. I love Benji more than anything;on one level, on a plane that I know I can’t love Dylan. So, there’s Benji. I didn’t settle, never that. But Benji was there when I needed someone there. Between us that day at our favorite lunch place, Book Worm Cafe, there was a connection. And I made sure to really focus on that and ignore what I felt for Dylan. I knew that Dylan liked Benji, he approved. And if they were friends then I would never have to choose between my boyfriend and ..my Dylan. I love Benji, I do.. as much as I can. I love being with him, and I don’t want to lose him. I know no one can understand how I can love them both, how I’m not using Benji to replace Dylan. I’m not. Benji is my love. He is my man, I am with him, I choose him until he no longer wants me. But that doesn’t stop me from thinking of Dylan. While we have been dating, I was able to keep Dylan out of my thoughts in that aspect...but now...7

Now months later, when it seems that things are breaking down, those feelings arise again. It takes everything in my not to tell him, but I swore I would never put that look on his face again; that panicked look with a dash of pity. He loves Calli. That is it, there is no getting around that. Not I want to! She makes him happy, well, usually. He loves her and she better love him as he deserves! But...8

Dylan. I have such feelings for him. It’s not hero worship, it’s not because he has been so good to me, it’s not confusion of love that I would feel for a close friend. I love him, and it’s a deeper feeling then I think I will ever know for anyone else. Maybe one day, I will let it go, maybe one day I can see him and not wonder what the future could have held for us. Maybe one day I’ll give someone else a real chance to be with me. One day I won’t worry about him and wonder what he thinks and I’ll be confident enough that I will be able to look past him without a heartbreaking scene.9

Or maybe one day he might love me like this too.