We grow fonder, and fonder.

I sometimes don't understand that, still.

January was a period of defrosting. On the first, I was still disappointed in my December failure to commit. On the nineteenth, I took a leap of faith. "I'm gay." One person in the room knew I was considering it, a person who quickly became my best friend. I started writing every day. I started doing my work again.

February. Pit orchestra started, as did what should have been a small infatuation with Italy. I learned to love the sound of a low Eb, a luxury not afforded by a regular Bb clarinet. Twice now I had proven my worth to an apprehensive director. I settled into a routine of dealing with an ocean of emotion every day. Cassidy started getting on my nerves. My writing was themed around love, a city I had never been to. It was mediocre to me. But I was comfortable. "You like what you see?" It was easy to answer.

March was when Italy took over. I became enamored with an unpopular voice. My range continued to grow in leaps and bounds. I should have started failing Chemistry then, but my connections kept me afloat. I considered Anything Goes. I wrote a very good letter. My other writing began falling by the wayside. "I don't know how to gracefully ask this, but." I was disappointed, to say the least. I'd gotten my hopes up. It wouldn't happen again.

April. Always a turning point. I maintained, still maintain, that Dennis made a dumb decision when he fell in love with Natalie. I rolled my eyes at the meaning behind his beautiful song, but by the time the show opened, I was watching him very carefully so I could avoid looking where I wanted. I couldn't bare to watch, for reasons I refused to acknowledge. I dismissed it. I got closer with my niche in the Kiwanis Club.

May. Dear Lord. I made a cryptic comment online, and an actress fooled me into thinking she didn't understand it. For four hours, I said those stupidly sweet and disgusting things one says only to her best friend, never to the girl being discussed. I whatevered a lot. First period was a home. Even the teacher had acknowledged what was probably the closest friendship in the room. I ditched an audition to walk around the school in a silly green dress. "I would kiss you." I declined. It was stupid to even think about. And it happened anyway. Seven, Eight, Nine, we counted, and after five minutes of the most comforting embrace I've ever felt, an impulsive act lit the fuse for an explosion to last a lifetime.

June. Precariously balanced, always trying to fall one way or the other. I fell in love, and upon realizing this, I cried my eyes out in the car of one of my favorite people. It was becoming a habit for us to drive around for hours, stop at Denny's, and then drive around for hours again. We passed the house on Laurel and Fifteenth, we passed the apartment near Harkness. My day went like this.

O: Ditch it, or sit in the gay corner and complain. Walk to first with two Js and Two Ss, pass my friend and have thoughts (wouldn't it be nice if).

1: Check in and find the dynamic for the day, learn from/ be smitten with Ms. Teacher for forty minutes, then promise a bracelet, talk about Mattie and Gatsby and the dead salesman. Write out dramatic apologies when it was bad, smile when it wasn't. Walk to the math buildings and then to Wind Ensemble.

2: Play my music and think about being somewhere else. I was still aware of the euphonium player behind me. Nutrition with Briss.

3: Walk to the gym, usually in silence, excused tardy. Sit and write stupid sappy things in 45, trying to convince myself I could get my writing back on track. Fail another test, think about next period.

4: Stand behind Italy, having forgotten about her except that she was flat. Watch the music, watch the director, watch my thoughts so they don't stray. Lunch in the rose garden.

5: Pretend to really care about a scene, pretend to want to do something other than sit and talk to my favorite fangirl. In a tacit understanding, hold hands to sixth period.

6: Go to McDonald's. Talk to the one person I don't dismiss myself with. Sit on the steps of the history building, pretend like I don't feel pathetic. Continue to write without trying to catch up.

I realize in hindsight that I didn't take the time to care about myself in June.

When the show opened, I spent much of my time curled up in the Deathly Hallows, or else talking to two wonderful people about All Things. And then I fell on the stairs and he said, "Because you aren't worth it." I didn't give in during that scene after that. I fell on the stairs again, earning myself matching scars on each wrist. I pretended I wasn't insecure about my other scars,  and I pulled away from one of the most important people in my life.

July. Cold. I cried a lot. I questioned my self-worth a lot. My writing dried up along with my appetite. I was a client and a burden, needy as fuck and too terrified to be clingy. I pulled away from just about everything. I felt angry all the time. One day, I realized what it meant to be heartbroken. And the next day, and the next. The only thing saving me was band and kindergarten. My show was everything I needed it to be. "To love something and to possess it are not the same thing." Fireworks went off every night. Despite the fact that I was in a church most of the time,  my faith was failing. I stopped sleeping so I could finish three semesters of work in the space of six weeks. Band was wonderful, my section was wonderful, being in the sun was wonderful, but the darkness was still there. I broke a girl's heart. I led her on and stretched the truth and in the space of two days I ruined her summer. I recognized for the first time that I am truly an awful person when I'm not on my guard.

August. I resigned myself to a long healing process. I felt empty a lot. I didn't eat enough or sleep enough, particularly when band camp started. A boy showed up on junior registration day and my afternoon was boiled in jealousy. I worried a lot about what would happen when school started. I worried that I was cursed to have a different best friend every year. More worrisome was the prospect of not having one at all. I got my ear pierced.

September. The football season was my saving grace. I settled into my lovely schedule. During sixth I went to get food almost every day with a girl who, try as she might, couldn't fill the gap. I'm not sure I wanted it filled. There were four of us who hung out with a stinky dog quite often, eating junk food and talking about movies. I introduced the X-files, they greeted me with smiles.

October. I stopped blushing in first period and got used to a constant, low level of worry. Band was breaking records, I was finding my way, it looked like things were about to work out, but something was out of place. Whatever, I thought. Whatever. I had shields up. But then a quick tiff about my rudeness broke some barrier, and things fell right back into place. I was cautious, yes, but not closed. Our rhythm recommenced. I relaxed. I relaxed enough to go to Homecoming, which. I mean. It was Homecoming. Olive Garden made up for it. I slept poorly that night. That is still a secret.  I started writing in first person. I decided to like myself again.

November. Very close to perfect. The season ended better than I could have ever imagined. I cried when the saxes played Cherry. We broke records. My computer started to fall apart. I got a new phone. A wall collapsed every day. I made a conscious decision to trust people, to have faith and just be a person. I know I'm resilient.

December. I got a new computer. I had a very relaxed celebration of my eighteenth. I still can't feel Christmas. Romantically, I am restless. I yearn for progress, for something to learn about life. But I'm very content. I've applied to two schools. I'm writing again.

1. Be more patient.
2. Eat three meals a day.
3. Write everything, always.
4. Avoid being hurt; Avoid being hurtful.
5. Kiss someone special.