Selective Memory and My Worst School Year

I’ve always known I’ve intentionally forgotten stuff I didn’t want or need to remember. Once I decide something isn’t important enough to warrant I remember it I let it go as soon as possible. I think that’s why I’m bad at names, I don’t know if this person I’ve just met will be important to me or if I’ll ever see them again so why take the energy to commit them to memory if I’m going to interact with fifteen new people tomorrow? Facebook has both helped and hurt this. I’ll add someone then I’m going through my friends wondering who the fuck someone is and it’s someone I met at a house party 8 months earlier but their name is a reference to something else and their profile picture isn’t them. I sometimes delete these people unless I think they might be a part of a future social circle then they get to stay until the next time I purge my friends list.

There have been many studies about memory and how memories are tied to experiences, locations, people and so forth. I’ve recently interacted with the two people who were my best friends my freshman and sophomore years of school, Glenn and Elizabeth. Glenn was a grad student so I assumed our friendship would drop off a bit when he graduated, which it did because he went off to influence and be disgusted by the future minds of America (he teaches middle school history). Elizabeth was in my year and I’d assumed we’d stay friends, that didn’t quite happen because of a shitty manipulative relationship she had that has recently ended. For the past 3 years I never got close with anyone so it’s been interesting to have someone texting me wanting to hang out and talk about nothing important, something I’ve craved and wanted, and I’ve been too busy trying to get my comics done to be able to do that these past few weeks. I feel bad I can’t be there for her right now and I can’t indulge in my need to be important to someone else*. I have this dumb self esteem thing that no one cares about me. Intellectually I know people do but without the proof it’s hard to believe that anyone will miss me when I move away.

A few weeks ago I mentioned how I went out to Virginia Beach with some old friends I may or may not have named, they were Glenn and Elizabeth. While out at dinner we were reminiscing while working toward filling in the lost years we’ve had and Glenn reminded me of something I forgot entirely. I intentionally forgot why I hated this one girl who was my roommate my sophomore year of college because I decided that was too much energy and I needed to move on and not think about shitty things like that. I need to forget negative shit because I will dwell on it and I’ll get into a funk about it so it’s an important aspect of self perseveration for me, I think.

The summer before my sophomore year of school I got a weird bump under my arm, it was painful, full of disgusting and I started getting fevers every day. I put it off all summer and went to the ER when I got back down to school and after a few months I learned I had hidridenitis suppurativa under my arms and around my groin. It was painful, smelled awful and made my life difficult. I think part of the problem with the odor was I’d get them opened and various changes that were happening under my skin weren’t done and with the doctor having cut them open so they’d drain they gave me comfort from the pressure which was the source of the pain, but what had to happen was now happening without a taut bubble of skin and gross over it keeping everything contained.

I was in and out of the hospital that September and October as the doctors tried to help me. My roommates had no compassion for my personal plight, none of the three of them. The girl I shared my room with, Amanda, decided to despise everything about me and became a hateful cunt. These three conspired to get me kicked out of the apartment because of my disease. It smelled bad but it is non-communicable. I had to get up about 2 -3 hours before my earliest class so I could hobble to the bathroom, gingerly clean out all of the weeping wounds and cover them all with gauze to protect them and my clothes (there were still many causalities to my shirts from this time).

So, every morning I rush to get into the shower before the other girls so I can make sure I have enough time to get clean before my class. I became intimate friends with 6am, it was bullshit. I learned how to not stay in bed, I didn’t have the time before my 9am class to waste.

In gathering some sort of evidence against me to get my kicked out of the apartment-dorm we lived in Amanda decided one morning to take photos of me naked trying to clean myself and get ready in the morning.

There is no world where that is appropriate.

I have always been fat so I first never really wanted people to see my naked but then I had this awful skin disease that was gross everywhere so that’s another notch against being naked around people. Then she was trying to take photos of me, to do what, I don’t know. Post them online? Embarrass me? The disease I have isn’t from a lack of cleanliness, I shower almost every single day, at least 350 days a year – almost EVERY SINGLE DAY. I can’t rush in the bathroom because I have to tape gauze to my skin, band-aids are not big enough. That year the best bandages I had were those big padded ones that the hospital uses after a surgery. The amount of disgusting that would leak from my skin then and how much I had to cover those were the best things. I still love ‘em and I don’t need anything that large now.  ( I still have the disease, all of the wounds are smaller and less disgusting for the most part but it’s not a walk in the park to have this shit)

I don’t know what Amanda wanted to do with those photos but I forgot that happened. We spoke with the RA about them wanting me kicked out because I was messy and gross I guess but I also never bothered them. That year was one of the shittiest years of my life. Mind you, this happened after the roller coaster year of graduating from high school and my mother dying. It also happened after my freshman year of school which is the only time in my life I’ve been truly angry, I was sick to my stomach from rage and so close to attempting to bash that girl’s face into a wall.

I had wanted to be Amanda’s roommate which made her betrayal as a friend that much more egregious to me.

Amanda, Midget Bitch (I honestly don’t remember her name, she was shorter than I am and a cunt) and Midget Bitch’s friend (she wasn’t really that vocal against me but she was aligned against me so…) ganged up against me to get me kicked out of our dorm. There was nowhere for me to go, I had to deal with their wanting to keep the dorm at 60fucking degrees in winter (I can’t be cold, I’m miserable, I’ve always been bad at being cold), I had to fight that each of us would clean the shower, their fucking 80 miles of hair clogged the goddamn drain and was everywhere. They wanted me to keep the shower that we all used clean because I spent more time in that bathroom but I fucking had to if I wanted to get any sort of privacy. I know there was other shit, maybe noise so I lived with headphones for the rest of the year.

This all happened days after my 20th birthday. I went from my favorite day of the year to having the shittiest life. I honestly do love my birthday like a child does. I don’t have to do anything on it, I just like knowing that I have a day to myself, I love other people’s birthdays because then I can laude them with attention and birthdays are a day to celebrate existence. I was at my absolute lowest after that, and I was stuck there until May.

I somehow dealt with it, I remember writing a lot that year, there are so many blog posts on blogger from the 2008-2009 school year. I threw myself into movies as escapism and I lived with my MP3 player that Amanda’s cunt of a friend stole from me on Inauguration  Day. I spent as much time out of the apartment every day just so I could have some sort of peace because ‘home’ was not peace for me that year.

I forgot that Amanda tried to take photos of me, I just remembered I hated here and she was a bitch to me along with the other two and I did nothing to harm them. Hell, the midget bitch stole my fucking food. It was always stupid shit but I was the last of us to leave the dorm and she came back once while I was gone at a summer class and ate a doughnut I had. I swear she used my fucking ketchup and I remember I had an empty boxy of poptarts on my shelf in the pantry, I came back one day and the box had been moved.

I’m like, really bitch? Really, you’re going to take my food? I went out of my way to stay out of their way because I had nothing to say to them. I wasn’t their friend.

Also, them bitches continued to use my TV and playstation that was in the living room as a DVD player.

:deep breath: I’ve gone through indifference and nostalgia from thinking about Elizabeth to crying from rage and depression from remembering how awful Amanda and those other two were to me. I in general keep to myself. This isn’t the first time people have tried to blame me for shit that wasn’t my fault. I don’t know if it’s because they were really racist cunts, if it was because I had a disability and disease that they couldn’t understand (surprisingly, I don’t think they ever took my pills and I had Percocet and vicodin for a while then) or something else.  I remember writing at some point that they hated me because they perceived my life to be easier or better than theirs? I decided they hated me because I didn’t study and I seemed to not be stressed out like they were.

I never study and I didn’t have much work that needed to be done, I don’t think. I really don’t know. I know I was really fucking depressed that year. I didn’t have Elizabeth because she had one boyfriend then the shitty one. Glenn was busy off doing his student teaching and being a grad student and shit. I don’t really maintain too many social contacts. I have a lot of acquaintances and few friends because I can’t be around people like that. I play my cards close. I may be gregarious and I may really like people and being social but I value and crave more than being around people to be alone. I prefer being close to one or two people, in high school that became Nora and Alex who are both still important to me. In college I made those people Glenn and Elizabeth and then for three years I had no one. I haven’t always been fine with that, but I found others along the way when I needed that shoulder.

This started off being about memory and it drifted to being about friendship?

I don’t curse Glenn or Elizabeth for doing when they did, we each had different lives and things to do. I got in with the art students and made friends within the local art/indie/freak community, which is something I needed.  Since Glenn reminded me of Amanda trying to take those photos of me I keep coming back to thinking about it. I learned that Amanda wasn’t someone to be trusted and I learned that I could not live in the hell that was the ODU on campus living situation. This skin disease, along with my unapologetic, bratty, brash, vulgar asshole personality are reasons why I need to live alone or have a roommate who can put up with me. I know no other existence but I also believe that my skin disease has affected how I interact with people.

*I wrote this originally in October when I was busy trying to get my comics finished.

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old post: hating my roommates from that dorm. [1] - that's one of the few where I disgussed any of my hatred of them. I have some old posts where i went off talking about my skin disease but I'll leave those to be forgotten, in a way.