I could do anything I want. Who’s to keep record?
I’m so lonely I could probably start punching holes in my walls and nobody would know.
I don’t have an escape. I don’t have anyone or anything to help me talk things through or just get stuff off my chest or just communicate with. And anyone that I do talk to I feel a sense of distance and guilt. The ratio of guy to girl friends I have is like 20 to 1. It would be really easy for me to convert to lesbianism. Like it’s that serious. I hung out with a girl 1on1 recently and it felt so… strange. I felt safe in a way. In a really fucking weird way that flooded me back with emotions of what it felt like to have a girl best friend and I honestly worked on composing myself the whole night. Anyway, I didn’t have to worry about my boyfriend being suspicious or tense because I was with a girl and not a dude or dudes. It felt like I could talk about girly things and not feel guilty about it. It was very strange. I mean, I have 1 other female friend that I’m close with (one) but we’re both so busy we never have the time to be with one another. Part of me wants so badly to be taken care of. Part of me wishes I were better at taking care of others. I want someone to, just once, clean up after me when I make a mess. For once wake me up in the morning in case I sleep past my alarm. For once tell me “good job” without having something to provoke its merit. It makes the World feel void of purpose when I just wake up every morning, go to school, try my hardest, go to work, try my hardest there, then go home, crash from exhaustion, wake up in a panic (because for some reason I wake up every morning thinking “I’m late!”), then repeat and repeat and repeat. No family dinners. No family conversations. No friend conversations. Just acquaintances and the daily rigamarole catalog. I have never feared intimacy so fiercely until now. I don’t have friends to talk to and the ones I do have (guys) I feel guilty for talking to because I know my boyfriend doesn’t like it. My number one best friend in the entire world, I let her go because she was just hurting me more than I could help her. I think people stay with people that hurt them because familiarity is comforting. Who wouldn’t want to talk to someone that knows your dirty underwear like the back of their hand? It’s a good feeling. And a shittier feeling, letting go of that comfort because they never seem to quite get how much they damage you, no matter how copiously you try and explain it to them. Moving somewhere new and not having anyone familiar, and I mean really familiar gives you a tough shell. No one here knows what I was like in middle-school or has walked with me through teenage heart-ache or crushes, or knows “the creek” or gone to Oviedo mall on Friday nights with me. Most people here don’t even knows what my parents look like. Some do. Rare few.
I had a thought today. I silently wished that I could take it all back and crank the clock on all these years of my life back and just enjoy what I had. I had never really experienced that feeling fully. I’ve thought of it, sure, but was never so much convinced of its severity till I truly meant it, as I do now. But time is relentless and today was my first time dealing with that despair. I never regretted time. Because I didn’t so much as care. Now, it’s queer. The colder I become, the more I regret.