ihavebeenfloated

I am not in a good spot right now. I’ve effectively isolated myself from all my friends, and I’m not entirely sure why. I quit smoking, which is slowly becoming less and less fun as I get more and more irritable and anxiety ridden. I feel jittery and couped up. I feel like I’m at my absolute low self-confidence wise. And then, to make matters worse, Sarah, who I practically end up sharing my entire day with through email, phone, and instant message, is going through some depressed stage and doesn’t seem to want to talk to me. It all combines into one big cluster fuck on Brad. It makes me say, think, and do stupid things.

Matthew wanted to hang out with me today, which I haven’t really done with anyone for a few days, and I hesitantly agree and head out the door pretty much with the idea in mind that this would be me learning to hang out with people again. I had no desire to, my thoughts ran: why go out, when I can stay home, I only end up bored at other people’s houses. I am bored here, though, I know, and feel like I’m crawling out of my skin.

I go, and I get up the street facing his drive way and I see that someone’s car is there. Might be Everett or Evan, or maybe someone entirely different, I don’t know. All I know is I see that other car and I think: why would Matt invite me over, but not tell me there are already people there? While normally this wouldn’t be a big deal, in that moment, it was. It took a lot for me to even get out of the house to hang out with Matt, and I prepared just in case Alex, or Robert, or Mike were there, but not for anyone else. I drove off, I didn’t stop, I just drove back home. I didn’t message or call Matt or anything, I didn’t know what to say. Texting him something like, “You didn’t tell me there were other people at your house, I’m going home,” seemed so… stupid, petty. You can’t put something so irrational into words and not recognize it for what it is. He called me some time later and I told him, I’m sorry, something came up, I have to go take care of something with Becca. He says, so you’re coming over after? I say, I don’t know, probably not, it’s Becca. He says, OK Brad, and hangs up on me. So, now Matt—the one friend who actually is bothering to try to spend time with me—is all pissed off at me.

I don’t have any urge to smoke cigarettes. I don’t get cravings. Becca asked me earlier, “Why, again, did you quit smoking?” I hemmed and hawed before eventually saying, “I don’t know, I just felt like it.” “Really fucking weird,” she replied. It’s true, I just made up my mind. The last time I did this, it was to woo a girl. I figured, if I quit smoking, that’ll be one last bad mark on my record and she’ll want to go out with me. It ended up that my quitting attracted the attention of another girl, which eventually ended my stay in San Diego when things went south. (When things went south, I had to go north. Ah ha, ah ha.) Even then, though, there were cravings, and up until about a month I felt pretty insane.

It took me about two weeks to start to feel insane, and it’s only building. I’m becoming so irritable you might as well just say I am always on edge, just waiting to get upset and explode about something. There’s really not much to say about it, other than the absurdity of it all. The whole physical dependence despite the lack of an psychological one is ridiculous to me, absolutely ridiculous. I quit the fucking drug, asshole, leave me alone?

The most sensitive part of all this is that, naturally, my face broke out right before all this started. Sure, it’s mostly all done now, but I am left with this cystic zit on my forehead that might as well be a small tumor, or dog, because I feel like it’s just sitting up there plotting against me. It’s not often that I feel embarrassed to go outside, but with all the other shit I have going against me (my hair is ridiculous! my eyes are all blood shot! i’m skinny and white and all sharp angles and i hate myself and holy fuck am i a teenage girl or what!! someone pass the fucking concealer and razor blades!), it feels like this is an unsurmountable obstacle.

Every time someone calls me I try to talk their ear off but think better of it. They don’t want to hear about the small pursuits of my day, and besides, I get to tell Sarah about all that shit anyway… But, now I can’t, or I don’t. I feel that I can’t. I’m in that state where I feel like I am just some random internet loser harassing the far away pretty girl. It doesn’t matter that we’ve actually spent real time together, have woke up next to each other. I feel like that connection between us has been severed in some way; now we’re just text printed out on screens 400 miles apart. I feel ridiculous, clingy, and entirely dysfunctional.

It’s hard when things change, period. I just don’t understand why things have to change right now. Sarah and I send, combined, at least 60 to 80 emails a day. Just menial crap, nothing really important, like I said above, we just end up sharing our days with each other like any couple does when they’re actually face to face. Since I’ve stopped hanging out with people, I kind of rely on her to be there to talk to. I can tell her pretty much anything, even if I know it’s unimportant to uninteresting to her. Now, though, not so much. I don’t feel like I can tell her anything. I just end up feeling like I’m bothering her, and it doesn’t help when she makes it clear that I actually am. Today there were only ten emails between us… and only two of them were from her. How does one not feel like a goddamn loser in the face of something like that?

I want to tell her about how I pissed off Matt, bought scratchers and won a free ticket I haven’t claimed yet, drank copa de oro and milk and ate fritos with easy cheese and passed out for a couple hours. I want to tell her that Greenleaf is significantly more enjoyable to me than Everything That Rises Much Converge but if the whole collection is old ladies being emo I am not sure if I will like it, but O’Connor has a great voice and writes things that I just want to steal and claim as my own to people who don’t know any better. I want to say, hi, i’ve missed you. I realize, though, that everything I say and everything I get upset about and however I manage to make her feel bad about not talking to me is just me saying, over and over, fuck, girl, I wish you were here, and I can’t deal with the fact that you aren’t.

I don’t really know what to do. If I could just sleep, continuously, for a couple days, I guess I’d do that. I’ll just leave everyone, myself included, alone, and hope it’ll pass. When I wake up, hopefully Sarah will have missed me, and hopefully my friends will call me to make sure I’m OK, and maybe everything can just go back to normal.

This sucks, though, because I’m not tired.