A few days ago, I spoke with Diane about the depression that seems to befall all medical students whilst they drudge through the dregs of school.  Right now, I think I’m suffering one of those moments acutely.

I don’t want to sound trite by writing yet another depressing blog-post, but I wanted to get this out on paper (or in pixils) to see if I can make enough sense out of my emotions to articulate them.

My fraternity holds an annual Thanksgiving dinner at our place; it’s customary for each member to bring a date.  Last year, I invited Jill and we had a good time.  This year, she declined my offer.  But I don’t blame her.

It’s not as simple as I’ve made it sound, she has a boyfriend now (or again), and I’ve made things far too complicated for things to be as simple as they were a year ago.  She weighed my invitation carefully… she thought about it for over a week, but ultimately, she had to turn me down.

While I am calmer now, more thoughtful, more in-tune with why she said “No”, I messed things up.  I got angry with her.  I felt disrespected, and my pride, my hubris, got the better of me… and brought out the worst in me.

I drove her away.  She is one of the few people here with whom I’m close enough to let my guard down.  She was a person with whom I shared many secrets and thoughts.  She was a confidante; a keeper of some of my most intimate secrets… and I drove her away.  We don’t speak anymore; I don’t know if we ever will.

I ended up asking another one of my classmates, Sara Janne, to the dinner.  She said yes.

Sara Janne is a lovely woman — very pretty, very affable, very friendly — but I couldn’t enjoy my night with her.  I kept comparing her and the entire night to last year — to Jill and the time she and I spent together.  It was a foolish thing to do.  It was an unfair thing to do.  But I did it anyway.

Initially, I thought if I could completely immerse myself in the night, live in the moment with Sara Janne, I could forget about Jill and the toxic BAD that I’ve wrought through my actions.  I threw myself into the actions; the motions; I made Sara Janne a Kawasaki Rose for the dinner, a token of my appreciation for coming — a symbol of my gratitude.  It was beautifully constructed; absolutely flawless.  It was perfect.

But then I thought about the first (and only other) Kawasaki Rose I made — I gave it to Jill last year when she seemed depressed… I stayed up for five-and-a-half hours folding and unfolding that rose… it was not nearly as perfect-looking, but I poured more of myself into making that one than I did making this second, perfect paper trinket.

As the night drew on, I pulled further and further away from her.  I felt hollow.  Numb.  I engaged in polite conversation, I joked, I “laughed”, I even danced a little.  But I couldn’t reconcile the fact that I didn’t feel as connected with Sara Janne as I did with Jill.  With Jill, we talked about books, authors, music.  We recognized how out-of-place we were with everyone else, so we crept to my room and just sat and talked.

That was the one of the happiest moment of my entire year.  It was the first time I felt like maybe I wasn’t so alone here.  That maybe there was someone just like me.  Someone with whom I could feel safe sharing my thoughts and feelings and insecurities.  Someone whose friendship I could claim and cherish, forever.

Sara Janne is a lovely girl.  Beautiful in the classic sense and refreshingly effervescent.  But I couldn’t live in the moment with her, no matter how hard I tried or how desperately I wanted to.  I just couldn’t do it.  And I felt like I was doing her a great disservice by feeling that way.

I lost one of my closest friends here over the trivialities of Respect and how I feel.  I lost her to my temper, and I drove her away.

Home-made chocolate Babke, home-made Kugel, that vibrating mascara wand from Lancome that supposedly leaves your eyelashes unclumpy, the Pedro Almodovar anthology, The Chipmunks Christmas special, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, a single rose, Nu de Dos II by Alain Dumas, artisan chocolates, A star named after her.

All of these are ideas I’ve had.  Gift ideas I would give her for her birthday or some special event.  Honestly, even now, I know all the things about her that would make her happy, not even from the romantic angle, I just know it though.  If guys say they don’t know what to get their girlfriends, they honestly should pay closer attention.  And it’s silly for me to know what makes her happy because friends don’t just give each other gifts like that.  It’ll make her think I’m trying to get her.

It’s just unfortunate that I’ve become this attuned to what a girl likes now that I’m older, lonelier, and have no one to share my ideas with.  I think I want to feel useful.  I want to be appreciated.  I want to make someone happy.  Because, I think I’m happiest when I make others happy.  I want to find someone I can make happy.