I need to calm down. The Director was married, and as I understood, was divorced. What was clarified to me last night was that he is, in fact, not divorced, not as of yet. His wife has filed for legal separation, which is basically the same thing, more or less, and they're waiting till next year to make it official because it's cheaper.

'Tis all very reasonable. So why am I upset? I didn't get upset AT him. If I recall, he never actually said "we were divorced on this day etc". What he said was, she wanted to separate and after we separated I realized I wanted a divorce, or something to that effect. I suppose the little elves in my brain that make connections among the holes in information were drunk.

Stupid drunk elves. Anyway, it's over, he's assured me. Quite over. It's up to me to trust that. And it's up to me to decide whether or not I feel comfortable dating someone's husband, legally separated or not.

That aside, I've done something else foolish. I noticed that his (ex)wife is part of his company. So I looked her up online and discovered that she's an accomplished writer and actor and at one point considered him the greatest love of her life. Granted, I'm younger, so not yet accomplished in either acting or writing, so I can't quite rule that out. But I'm not THAT much younger. I should know better than to compare myself to someone else, especially in this situation, but I'm afraid that he has overestimated me? That he thinks I'm much more brilliant and intriguing than I actually am. That's terrifying.

The fear that I will be discovered as an imposter, a dope in genius's clothing, is overwhelming. I have this at school, and now I have this in what seems to be something that could be very good. I'm terrified that he'll find my untidy habits and quirky behaviour and ideas off-putting. The fact that I have thousands of books not put away neatly on a shelf; the way I've staple-gunned my curtains up to the wall because I don't have a curtain rod; my green leaves above my bed; my billions of bottles of girly stuff in the bathroom - shampoo, various kinds, conditioner, various kinds, body washes and scrubs and all that stuff.

So far, all I seem to have going for me in this situation is that he is mesmerized by my eyes, and paralyzed by my hands and lips, and that I somehow manage to uphold this possible illusion that I am brilliant.

It makes me want to run away and hide, which is of course a ridiculous 12-year-old reaction. It would be foolish on the basis that this could be a fantastic, amazing, serious relationship - the one I've been wishing for? Or it could crash and burn like the rest of them because I've somehow screwed it up, I've somehow become substandard, or his (ex)wife wants him back and he agrees.

I sit here and stew about this instead of writing the rest of my philosophy essay. I think I'm losing my mind.

Help.