So, I had the practice interview with He Who Must Not Be Named today. 

It was scheduled to be right at the start of advocacy, which is right after first period.  In the morning I was so nauseous from anxiety that I could barely eat breakfast, and the nausea continued through first period. 

He made me wait outside while he introduced what his class was going to be working on, which made me antsy because my advocacy teacher (Mrs. Wonklonk) was actually waiting on me to finish the interview so I could join them when they went out to the community garden.  (We're working on renovations again, which I mentioned earlier in the book because we started Sophomore year but had to stop thanks to COVID.)

When he finally came out he didn't have a segue into the interview, because I guess he thought it would help if he treated it more like a casual conversation.  Instead, I didn't realize he had started the interview, and when I did I panicked and there was an awkward silence which I broke by laughing nervously.  Being the perceptive man he was, he realized his method was ineffective so he backtracked and asked me about the shirt I was wearing (which was a Star Trek uniform) and made a joke about red shirts before transitioning back into the interview. 

The entire time I was talking to him I was curling in on myself and was kind of backed up against the wall, which my friend commented on when she and Mrs. Wonklonk came by to walk me to the garden.  My legs were also weak because he didn't really allow me to sit down which really didn't help with the anxiety I was feeling.

Now, as I've described it, the interview didn't really go that badly, right?  Correct.  So why is the chapter titled "the Worse Possible Outcome?"

Well, he had his sleeves rolled up when we were doing the interview, which he often does with long sleeve shirts but I just hadn't been paying attention for a long while since why should I care?  I kept glancing back at his arms in between looking off to the side and meeting his eyes while I was talking.  After the interview was over, I thought about how nice his arms were.  Perfectly masculine and covered in ginger hair which for some unknown reason drives me particularly crazy. 

The Worst Possible Outcome is clear to you all now.  I have a crush on him again.  I've fully relapsed.  Apparently ten fucking minutes with him was just too much for my weak ass heart and my touch starved self to handle after being in quarantine for so long. 

Why do I have to be like this?  I've made it so much harder on myself.  I have to do another interview, the real recorded one, since this one was just a practice.  I have to schedule said interview.  Then I won't have to interact with him for the last several weeks I have until graduation, but it'll still be painful.  I'm going to miss him so much when I leave.  I most definitely should not let myself have any sort of goodbye, but God that will be so hard.  To not ever get to see him again.  I have to leave him.  I have to leave him forever.

Why couldn't this just not be a big deal?  Why does it have to be like this?
Does the universe hate me?  I think there's something wrong with my heart.  With my head too.

There's something wrong with me.