Re: I'm a disgusting failure at life.

Ah yes, live journal, home of emo kids.


Well, today I shall join the festering ranks but with my own dramatic bullshit that I dare not complain about to anybody.

Today he asked me if I needed to use his calculator again. When I told him I was alternating between two classes in the afternoon, hence the calculator was not needed, he sounded let down, as if I denied him a real treat; to lend me a calculator.

When I got home today, I found my mom had picked up a new calculator for me. The exact same one that I borrowed from him yesterday, and nearly accepted again today just to see him smile.

Often I sit by his classroom door, listening to Ursula (my mp3 player) and reading books and books and books. When he finally comes back, I sometimes sit with him in the classroom, and together we talk and joke as if we've known each other our whole lives, rather than two and a half years. We sometimes listen to music; he turns on the computer and slips in some random band I've never heard of, and I toss him Ursula and show him the wonders of The Lovely Feathers, The Most Serene Republic, The Arcade Fire, AFI, Manson... the eclectic tastes that I have. Sometimes he loves it (like Tiny Cities Made Of Ashes - Modest Mouse) and sometimes he hates it (Wrong Choice - Lovely Feathers). Sometimes when he walks in the outside door and viddy's me enveloped in a book, he smiles, or even laughs. He always throws a random comment at me as he enters the classroom, and occasionally helps me with the books and random affects I carry around with me, as if they were a part of my identity.

The jokes, the winks, the almost-secretive smiles I rarely viddy him share with anybody else. We both have references that are used occasionally and we can't help but laugh laugh laugh, while others look on in confusion at our play on words. The word-plays are my favourite times of the day. I hate weekends, for I never see him on those days. He once shook his finger at me, telling me that the faculty have also taken to calling him the special nickname my friends and I made up for him. I just smiled and said, "I bet you signed in under that name, too!" and we both had quite a laugh.

He thinks that my work with photography and photo-manipulation is "genius" and I could go somewhere with it. Maybe he only meant to make me feel good, but I take it to heart. I want to get into photojournalism, or print media, or become a graphic artist. Just so when I succeed, I can get a hold of him and say, "Have you had a viddy in such and such publication? Do so. Look on such and such a page. That's mine. That's what you told me to do. I did it." And I want to hear his pride.



I'm 16. I'll be 17 next month (December, that is.)


He's 45. My mother is 47. My father is 44.


The man I feel I'm in love with is 28 years my senior. He's been teaching nearly my entire lifetime.

He's got two beautiful children, and a very lovely wife.





....

Why do I feel like there's a remote possibility that he may viddy me the way I viddy him? Majestic, aloof, and so, incomprehensibly desirable... It's a pathetic dream I hold in my eye, but I know it shan't ever happen. It's for the best.