ihavebeenfloated

I’m jealous, that’s what it is. Maybe. I feel the uncontrolable urge to smash in someone’s face, and I can’t really decide whose it is. In the fear of getting into specifics, I wont even go into the various reasons I would smash either of their faces, but none the less, one of their faces, I want to smash. Maybe both. Neither would get me what I want, but I’m not even really aware of what I would hope to accomplish by smashing anything. It would only hurt matters more, but there is no fixing matters so why would hurting them matter?

I stare at the phone and hope, pray, someone calls me. Anyone. But, no one does. No one will save me from my isolation. I can’t manage to make myself get up and head out the door. I spent a long time washing my car, but for what? No one important will see it. No one I care to woo will be inside of it, why does it matter? I know that to be apathetic is to practically be dead, so I go through the motions, but really, what do the material things matter?

This is where I sigh melodramatically and throw myself to the floor in a mock sorrowful pose.

I remember when a life of loneliness was something I enjoyed. It was work, I know, that satisfied my need for socialism, and now without that, school is it. And without school, nothing. That’s the funny thing about work, when you’re away from it you’re so glad to have some days off that the lack of social connection doesn’t matter and you’re able to enjoy the act of even being away from people. School, or other forms, don’t trigger this. School is less work, and so the days off don’t even really matter.

Now I’ve got nothing to entertain my social notion. Just the vast emptiness of my brain, with the few whisps of sorrowful worries rattling around, banging into the walls.