LJ User: Xx_RubyJane [Private Entry]
Date: August 2, 2012
[Mood: furious]
[Music: "Hide and Seek"—Imogen Heap]
I can't believe Hanni. Who does she think she is? I should report her. Go to Madame Rosard and tell her what an invasive, nosy bitch Hanni is.
And she knows I can't! That's what makes me so mad about this. She knows I won't. Because I'd have to tell them what she said.
Who calls someone that? Who says those things? Assumes them? Like she knows me better than I do. She only knows things because of what she did!
She cornered me today. I should've known something was up. I thought she was going to get on me about the choreography again and how I'm not creative enough in my movement for modern dance. But instead, she said something that made me want to die.
She told me I needed to be careful about logging out of the computer in the lab. She said I'd forgotten the other night, all soft and slow, like she was breaking it to me. Like I wasn't seconds away from killing her because I could see it on her face.
She'd read some of it. Maybe my email to Lisa. Maybe even my journal. My private entries are supposed to be private and now ...
I literally wanted to throw up all over her feet. I thought about it. It would serve her right.
But she kept talking. I could barely hear her until she said it:
Lots of us go through self-loathing closet-case phases, Jennie. It's okay.
Like she was lesbian Jesus giving me permission! Like I was one of hers. Like I had been part of an us somehow this whole time and didn't know!
I really thought I was going to throw up. But she kept talking. All gentle like she was worried about me. About how she wants to help, and how hating myself isn't going to get me anywhere.
So fake. So rude. So condescending. I don't need her help or her nasty assumptions! I don't need anyone.
I told her to get out and she finally listened, and then I rushed over to the computer lab to change all my passwords, just in case.
Hanni acts so casual about it. Like it's easy. Like you can kiss girls in dance studios whenever you want and hold hands with them down the street and bring them home to your mom like you would a boy. Like that love is something you can reach out and grab. Like ... like ... it's something you can just have.
I don't get to be Hanni. All I get is the memory of railroad-track kisses and Lisa's eyes, shining at me like I was her only, and I'll never get that again. Someone looking at me like they know me because they actually do.
And now I know: to go through life unknown when you've had a taste of the other side is a lot more bitter than sweet.
But it's what I've got. It's all I've got.
-Jennie