(no subject)
When I first moved out here I had some of the worst roommates money could buy. Three sets of them. I spent a year hiding my belongings, crying in the bathroom, defending myself during "mediated" meetings, and beginning the long process of becoming a distrusting antisocial.
I used to take pictures with everyone and laugh incessantly. I laughed until my ribs caved in and milk came out my nose. I was optimistic about everyone and everything and stayed up until all hours of the night. I went to parties and had a good time--without being a wallflower and without wondering what to say next.
When I see pictures of girls having a grand old time together, just being gal pals, I feel so alien. I feel like I've never been apart of anything like that, when I have. I read a book a week just to keep myself occupied in my room. I don't think to call anyone up because I feel like they are probably already busy doing other things anyways.
What happened to the girl in the pictures I used to be? Were the eleven roommates that I circultaed through just too much for my social being? Now I'm nervous when I'm not doing something "productive" and I take the first chance to leave anywhere with people of substance. I make lists in my head of things I should be doing when I'm out having fun. I'm never fully there, always somewhere else, my other persona worrying and worrying about the future and right now and how it all fits.
I feel like those girls should have been an omen. An omen that the houses here will never be as pretty or warm hearted, much like the people. I can't go back now even if I wanted to. But Lord, it would be nice to have a little bit of both. The life I love to live and the life I love to remember.
Dreams, oh how fleeting are dreams.
I used to take pictures with everyone and laugh incessantly. I laughed until my ribs caved in and milk came out my nose. I was optimistic about everyone and everything and stayed up until all hours of the night. I went to parties and had a good time--without being a wallflower and without wondering what to say next.
When I see pictures of girls having a grand old time together, just being gal pals, I feel so alien. I feel like I've never been apart of anything like that, when I have. I read a book a week just to keep myself occupied in my room. I don't think to call anyone up because I feel like they are probably already busy doing other things anyways.
What happened to the girl in the pictures I used to be? Were the eleven roommates that I circultaed through just too much for my social being? Now I'm nervous when I'm not doing something "productive" and I take the first chance to leave anywhere with people of substance. I make lists in my head of things I should be doing when I'm out having fun. I'm never fully there, always somewhere else, my other persona worrying and worrying about the future and right now and how it all fits.
I feel like those girls should have been an omen. An omen that the houses here will never be as pretty or warm hearted, much like the people. I can't go back now even if I wanted to. But Lord, it would be nice to have a little bit of both. The life I love to live and the life I love to remember.
Dreams, oh how fleeting are dreams.