2. maine

Oh.
My.
God.

The insanity continues. No…The insanity gets worse.

I’m still here in Maine, in total retreat from my whole situation and from the insanity of being held prisoner… sort of. And I’m more confused than ever.

Last night, after my friends and I boiled some lobsters for dinner and we drank a bit too much and they went to bed, I couldn’t sleep.

And I called Jeremy.

OK! I know that’s crazy. I really, really know how crazy it is, but here’s the thing…I still haven’t told anyone what happened. The whole situation is taking on mythic proportions in my mind at this point and I’m afraid to tell anyone. I can’t imagine what my fiancé or my friends or…anyone at all would say. Or if they would even believe me. I’m really sure they wouldn’t! At this point Jeremy and I are the only ones who know what happened. I was a bit drunk. I was more than a bit upset. And so I called him. Maybe because I just had to talk to SOMEONE. I couldn’t stand it.

I know what you’re thinking. But I’m not totally crazy. I’m not. I know this guy is not my friend. I know he’s a possibly dangerous psychotic. For all I know, this guy could be getting messages from Satan through his neighbor’s dog! I know. I know. I know.

Yes, we were drinking tonight. My friends all love my special Peach Sunset martinis. and for some reason we watched “Coffee and Cigarettes” by Jim Jarmusch on cable. I was thinking about what Jeremy would say about the film. He does have interesting opinions on films. Calling him made a sort of weird sense at the time and it seemed sort of daring, too. Like I would be confronting a situation I was afraid of. Not letting myself be intimidated. Sort of. And I had every intention of really telling him off.

I went out into the garage so no one could hear me if things got loud. I called from my cell phone (now recharged) so he wouldn’t know where I was calling from or anything. But…when he picked up, I didn’t say anything, just silence. Then he said my name. Like he was expecting me to call. And he didn’t act mad or upset, he just told me how much he missed me and how much he loved me. I had thought I was going to try to talk some sense into him and then I realized there was nothing new I could say on the subject that I hadn’t already said a million times. I suddenly felt so exhausted and I just hung up without saying anything.

Now I’m the creepy one.

Then I called Colin at work (he works nights, remember?). I told myself I needed to explain it all to him, come clean, but I couldn’t think of how to start. I couldn’t think of a way to tell him about all the craziness and I ended up getting defensive and upset by all the questions he asked me. I was completely unfair to him. He’s pretty upset with me now and doesn’t understand. How could he? My friends here in Maine have just assumed Colin and I have had a big fight that I just haven’t told them about it yet. I don’t even have any clothes or anything with me! Obviously, they know something is up. Before we hung up Colin said that he was going to drive up here to get me.

The longer I wait to tell anyone the story, the harder it gets. I’ve never felt so alone. It’s my own fault. This isolation is totally self-imposed. Why the fuck am I doing this? What is it I AM doing? Maybe I’m as crazy as Jeremy. Is insanity infectious?