This morning, I spit all over my pillow. I was having a dream in which I was in the middle of a lab class and kept making trips over to the sink. Each time I did, I would notice a tablet in a bowl of water at the bottom of the sink. The second time, I leaned into the sink and just started spitting; that was when I awoke to find myself spitting into my pillow and staring at the alarm on my real life tablet.
I'm not going to talk about how I've been. I am biased in the moment and hollow unless surrounded by people, in which case I would just be lying about how I'm feeling because I can never be sure when others are involved.
Today, I woke up and played Smite on my Xbox, as I do many days. I contemplated my next day of classes with nagging persistence, like it was somehow in my best interest to waste my free time reminding myself of time I would inevitably have to spend. Someone I play Smite with, Greg. I'm starting to freak out wondering if he's angry with me. He goes a whole day without playing with me once in a while. That's not that long, and I know it. But I feel it, especially after a string of days where we play together. I'm not interested in Greg. I'm not interested in most people. I wish he would tell me if I bother him so I could remove him from my friends list and stop seeing him log-on and occupy his time with activities that don't involve me.
A few days ago, I noticed that my ex-best friend blocked me on Xbox Live. This is a friend that I have assured myself I am better off without. In a fit of rage, I logged into her account, unblocked myself, and added her back. We have remained friends since, but then again, she's in the hospital having a baby. I'm surprised her evil boyfriend hasn't blocked me again. I've seen him on, watching Netflix, not spending time with his pregnant girlfriend in the hospital. I'm not there either. My mother was going to go see her, but she was too tired. Did she say she was going to go to feel like a good person for the whole day? Was that the plan? Does she care that she didn't actually do the thing that made her feel like a good person before neglecting to do it? I'm not sure.
I think I'm lonely. I get off on going to my old high school's football field and laying in the grass. I stargaze like all the hipster loners do, but I honestly don't care about the stars. It's all part of the act. I enjoy pacing around the field more than anything, hoping desperately that someone will show up. For any reason. Any person. And sometimes people do. I usually wish they would leave, and then leave, myself.
I have no concept of what or who I am anymore. I'm a collection of thoughts instigated by people and events adjacent to me. I hate sounding pretentious, but the part of me that actually hates it is getting tired of having to censor myself. When I feel I sound pretentious, it's only because I have some twisted idea of what pretentious people say, and then, as a "pretentious person", most everything I think up gets vacuumed into that category.
I wasn't feeling nearly this detached earlier. I spoke to people, I did normal things. I found out my refund money came in and I swelled with the excitement of having money to spend carelessly. I no longer have a best friend to splurge with. That thought hurt, I think. The friend was trouble, I think. I am better without her, I think. Do you see my confusion? Too many forces telling me how to think and feel. The media, my parents, friends, former friends, pictures of Instagram, petitions for social justice, mental health experts.
It's too much. I am. I exist. And that is where I end. And not in the ironic sense that I end my blog here. That is where I end.
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