(no subject)
Is it selfish of me? To look around and see everyone with their other halves and count the details and realize that I’m probably the loneliest out of all of them?
Maybe it’s selfish or unreasonably negative to come to the conclusion that all of the close friends I have also have their circle and at least one person they’d rather be hanging out with. One person they’re always with or they always go home to or call after everything’s said and done.
And it’s not as if I don’t have one or two people I could go home to or call when it’s all said and done and my day has ended, but they’re not here. They’re not accessible.
And it saddens me to think that I have so few things really holding me here, because I remember loving it here, where I am.
But it’s just not true any more. The more I think about it, the more I realize that me, driving home alone each night, not having any place to go but back to my room after everyone I know retires is probably the gist of my existence in this town from now on.
Of course, I don’t mind the meeting up with one person to do this for an hour, or meeting up with these people to do that for an hour, but I’m only the person they want to see for that hour and outside of that, we go back to our routines, or they do and I wander off, alone again and we don’t talk for another three days because it’s not all that important to them and I know this, so I don’t make the effort to call them, because let’s be honest, the people I’d really like to see don’t return my phone calls anyway.
The more I mull all of these factors over in my head I realize how easy it could be to just leave. When I’m finished with what I need to do here, graduate, get a car, all of that, I could just leave. I could pack up what little I have and drive.
I do truly believe that, right now at least, in the midst of this, I am straining to be normal. When left alone, I curl into myself and attempt to distract myself with trivial things such as rolling cigarettes, reading books, messing with strands of my hair and after a while, it seems like the uselessness of my current existence turns into lethargy and the lethargy gives way to uncalled for depression and each good mood created by the few social interactions I have fades into frowns and contemplation of my escape yet again.
I don’t know why I’m so unhappy, but I do.
I am stretching what little happiness is left so thin that I think some people may take notice, but others just get irritable and call me a bitch.
To be a bitch it may take anger but what I’ve got is indifference.
I am absent minded and at a loss for words, yet again, unable to provide what is necessary to keep myself occupied and make myself happy.
I am afraid, also. If I get a job then I might be compelled to stay here, to keep this job, still in this mindset, still unhappy, still lonely, trying to make something of myself.
If I start school in the fall and I am still unhappy, I will be compelled to stay here and finish it, still lonely, still trying to make something of myself.
I need to find a solution.
Maybe it’s selfish or unreasonably negative to come to the conclusion that all of the close friends I have also have their circle and at least one person they’d rather be hanging out with. One person they’re always with or they always go home to or call after everything’s said and done.
And it’s not as if I don’t have one or two people I could go home to or call when it’s all said and done and my day has ended, but they’re not here. They’re not accessible.
And it saddens me to think that I have so few things really holding me here, because I remember loving it here, where I am.
But it’s just not true any more. The more I think about it, the more I realize that me, driving home alone each night, not having any place to go but back to my room after everyone I know retires is probably the gist of my existence in this town from now on.
Of course, I don’t mind the meeting up with one person to do this for an hour, or meeting up with these people to do that for an hour, but I’m only the person they want to see for that hour and outside of that, we go back to our routines, or they do and I wander off, alone again and we don’t talk for another three days because it’s not all that important to them and I know this, so I don’t make the effort to call them, because let’s be honest, the people I’d really like to see don’t return my phone calls anyway.
The more I mull all of these factors over in my head I realize how easy it could be to just leave. When I’m finished with what I need to do here, graduate, get a car, all of that, I could just leave. I could pack up what little I have and drive.
I do truly believe that, right now at least, in the midst of this, I am straining to be normal. When left alone, I curl into myself and attempt to distract myself with trivial things such as rolling cigarettes, reading books, messing with strands of my hair and after a while, it seems like the uselessness of my current existence turns into lethargy and the lethargy gives way to uncalled for depression and each good mood created by the few social interactions I have fades into frowns and contemplation of my escape yet again.
I don’t know why I’m so unhappy, but I do.
I am stretching what little happiness is left so thin that I think some people may take notice, but others just get irritable and call me a bitch.
To be a bitch it may take anger but what I’ve got is indifference.
I am absent minded and at a loss for words, yet again, unable to provide what is necessary to keep myself occupied and make myself happy.
I am afraid, also. If I get a job then I might be compelled to stay here, to keep this job, still in this mindset, still unhappy, still lonely, trying to make something of myself.
If I start school in the fall and I am still unhappy, I will be compelled to stay here and finish it, still lonely, still trying to make something of myself.
I need to find a solution.