the day glow

i'm slipping.

i woke up today in a rut. fine, whatever, that happens. i made the executive decision to sleep in and skip discussion, then go to law class. cut to an hour later. i'm laying in bed with my eyes stinging and bloodshot, blood trickling from my nose, thinking of which bridge would be least conspicuous for me to be found below should i jump today. i'm imagining the world without me in it again. how my friends and family would react, what the funeral would be like. how my burdensome-at-best life would cease its ingress upon others. i think i want to throw up.

this is proof that my psyche is shattering again. it's been a year since i've had any of these angsty, self-hating suicide fantasies. i can't bring myself to leave my room; i'm petrified of everyone out there. they judge me. they hate me. i can't deal with anything going wrong. that can't happen. so i sit here in my own stench of sweat and disgust. it's like i'm falling even faster now, as if this paranoid agoraphobia is choking my soul, my spirit and ambition. sitting under the grey cloud of listlessness, awaiting my judgment like some slothful waif.

the missing e

despite the fact that this is a desperate preteen cry for attention, i don’t want to be called out on it…

my friends around here kinda suck. as of late a handful of them are ditching me every other day. nobody calls me back anymore, i am ignored for some reason. am i that annoying to be around? am i that terrible of a person? maybe they’re just tired of me. that’s a terrible thing to say, not only in the vein of self-pity but also because it makes it seem like i’m accepting and okaying such behavior.

it’s really playing havok with me right now. even with my meds, i’m feeling as low as i did last summer at certain points. this time it’s not unfounded, though. then, i would just ignore everyone and sit in my room wallowing in an inexplicable despair. now, it’s the fact that i’m being ignored causing this. or at least, it’s the spark lighting off my latent emotional issues hidden under a coat of lexapro.

writing posts and blogs like this sometimes makes me miss writing. i used to love it so much, all those years ago. it was an outlet for my creativity, it offered me catharsis, and generally boosted my self-esteem when people praised me for it. but it was always so whiny. i never liked my own style at all. it’s a hallmark of the stephanie meyer generation of authors and readers, people who can’t (or won’t) grow out of their hormonal teen anguish, instead stewing in it like a hot muck. and through their work they invite readers to sink into the tar as well, to stagnate in such awful bullshit. that’s how i see myself as an author. backwards.

the fog

i'm walking through life in a blissful fog right now. lexapro is doing wonders for me, and it apparently hasn't even kicked in fully yet (according to the doc.) but this isn't a long-winded pitch about america's favorite addiction, oh no; this is me squeezing out the last bits of fear i have in me before they get lost in the fog and i am forever a different man.

there's a lingering, nagging voice in the back of my head right now. that voice of paranoid, fearful logic that is clinging to the notion that who i am is getting lost in who i'm hiding behind. i'm terrified of what these pills are going to do to me once they kick into high gear. i've become apathetic about sociality, my work ethic has plummeted even further if you can believe it, and i've generally become a grey blob of contentedness. and tantamount to that transformation, i'm okay with it most of the time. i said to myself yesterday while i was walking around, "i'm so happy that my mind isn't racing like usual anymore." but is that truly a good thing? am i actually losing what made me 'special,' what made me like myself in some small but wholly important way, to the drug-addled ideal of american youth that i'm shoving down my throat every morning?

and now i find myself troubled for the first time in weeks. staring blankly at my computer screen as my mind putters along, trying to regain the pace it once kept. is this really what i want? or am i being fooled and conditioned by the artificial synapses firing in my brain? i don't even feel comfortable asking such things now, because i'm not the same person whose answer i seek now. i feel like i should be asking a different question...

what would lucio want?

the lantern lights

happy october. i'm sitting in my room, less than half an hour away from a cornerstone moment in my life, wiling away the minutes on this stupid blog. i could be doing the work i have to finish by tomorrow, or study for a test, or get a jump on my research paper...or go to the bathroom!

...

better.

the eyes

three shots of straight vodka, a few beers, and a bruised vertebra = my night. a hangover fortified by my having forgotten to take my allergy pills and possibly a cold, with work barreling towards me by the hour = my morning. fuck you, saturday night. why aren't you ever as good as last year? when i was hooking up with 2 girls a night, having drink races into the morning hours, and making cute lesbians rethink their inebriated sexuality? now it's always me dancing like a little white man, drowning the music in alcoholic moose piss and hoping i don't slip into a dramatic episode. i don't do the club/dance scene, i just don't. i'm a talker, a charmer. not a dancer or a really physical guy in terms of meeting people. those rooms parties were my stomping grounds. no wonder alan hated me, i used to steal women from him at those apartment mixers.

i met a girl who lives in casc yesterday while i was moving my car. i bumped into her and we had the awkward OH MY BAD DIDN'T MEAN TO GROPE YOU WITH MY SHOULDER BONES moment...but she stopped for a second and looked into my eyes. it was very genuine. ah, what a thrill, the chase is. unfortunately, i've realized i shouldn't really be going for people living in this building. just another little tidbit for me to remember when i decide to go looking. it hadn't hit me until last night that what i did to lauren was tantamount to me breaking up with a girl and screwing her live-in sister. i.e. probably the scummiest thing i've ever done. and of course because she didn't get mad at me i won't learn. because to me i'm a good person and not in the wrong for living my life and pursuing a true connection with a woman. i'm not a tucker max, i'm no barney, i'm not an alpha, therefore i'm incapable of being an asshole. it's simply commutative.

but then again, i'm oversimplifying life by believing that. how can i think people are so flat? i don't even think that about most people! i'm just so attached to this idea of me weaving into this archetypical mold that doesn't even exist in reality, it's something i've made up to try and understand the absurd mixture of my quirks and flaws, in my inefficably desperate attempt to make my life easy like a television show. maybe i still believe in the magic window...i hope not. i really couldn't tell you at this point.

t-minus 3 weeks until i become another number on prozac's quarterly sales report. then again, once that happens, whoever i become won't care. it's sad that i'm no longer terrified of letting who i fundamentally am drift away into the inky abyss of my knotted brain. whatever. the only downside is that dust will now collect on my jams notebook.

the classlessness

i'm really bored in chemistry right now. fucking a, i got a 5 on my ap chem test, and yet i still have to take a nonmajors class to fill out my credits. there are people in here marvelling at the idea of orbitals. i'm absolutely stumped at how i ended up here. it's almost a comment on my work ethic, or lack thereof. waning ever since middle school, and by junior year i was firmly locked into senioritis. sometimes i wonder if i ever shook that feeling of carefree lack of responsibility. that laziness that seems to define me in the eyes of my hard-working, get-it-done-yesterday friends. i used to take offense to their jabs, but no longer...it's just their way of venting. i deserve it; in a way, to them i'm one of those kids that coasts through life without regard for the concept of hard work, the enemy of the working man. ehh. i don't have a huge problem with that.

the professor just made an incest joke. my spine is in pieces.

i wonder who that kate c is. i really do think i'm in love with her, mind you. not because of the whole gay porn thing, but for a more normal reason. she writes so fluidly, her ideas flow exquisitely without weighing down what she's trying to say. i want to write like that, that oscar wilde "i'm short and sarcastic and dry love me" way of spewing your ideas onto paper in a quick and acidic fashion. people lap that up. i don't blame them. it's easily my favorite style of writing, that point-blank deadpan snarker type of pen.

awful chemistry pun. now he's wondering why nobody laughs at his jokes.

man, i'm still lovesick. saturday night proved that. aggressive drinking seems to bring out my dramatic pre-highschool self, and from what i have pieced together thus far, i apparently couldn't handle being at that party with all its different implications. between dancing around one of those girls long enough to realize i still have feelings for her despite saying i bounced back a few hours after being rejected, and remembering last year's phi tau escapades with kristen and abby (god, was THAT a shitshow,) i snapped and left in a huge, messy production. i need to stop dragging people down with me. like i said yesterday, i'm sort of a train wreck. it's slowly but surely happening. regardless, i'm still stuck on her, even though this could just be me idealizing her after she dumped me because i haven't been dumped in years and forgot how it felt. we would be awful together. remember kristen from high school? it would be that bad. no, not the pool hookups, us actually being together. THAT bad. but i don't care! because i don't think things through. that's exactly what i vowed to stop doing, racing in without thinking. then again, what else does a train wreck do but run headfirst into things?

the professor's talking about smoking crack in austria. class dismissed.