And So...

I realize that I'm lonely. And it hurts.

I'm lonely for a multitude of reasons but one true all standing answer rings clear: I'm lonely because I want to be lonely and because I'm afraid of being un-lonely. Yeah, that makes no sense, that's completely and utterly retrospectively cynical of me, but it is the truth and I guess that has to stand for something. 

I don't know what's really happened to me over these past few months of being back at home. I guess it all came to a head when I thought I wasn't going back to school, though it had been slowly building up sometime during the middle of my first semester. Then, it eventually dawned on me that I had finally arrived at the college of my dreams which, despite a few liberal art-school hipstery cliches-- and rather disappointing contrived approaches to making me feel "unique"-- was totally awesome and right for me; that I was in one of the most trendiest and exciting cities in the United States just brimming with possibilities for my budding writing career; that on every corner smoking a cigarette, rocking a Naruto sweatband, and reading the latest Detective Comics (okay, I never SAW this type of person, no doubt they're there) was the chance for a new friendship--that I had remained what I thought I'd finally escaped: Me. 

Me-- still the quiet, cold and distant seeming girl who wears old graphic tees with a nappy afro and greasy skin who barely talks to anyone and makes awkward conversation when presented with the chance to speak. I hadn't changed. I hadn't blossomed or became this awesome, modern person who knew all the pros and cons to expensive coffees at Starbucks or downed a few shots with people who were very much on their way to being bestsellers on the New York Times (okay...I never really thought that would happen but the shots thing with at least normal people and the coffee thing...totally hoped that would happen). I was still so me, so boring, so awkward seeming, so quiet as a means of defense than actual want. Nothing was different besides the fact that I was in a new city and talking to new people. 

I guess I feel like I failed there. I vowed to take the opportunity I was given to be somebody else and I failed. I didn't change. I went there me, I came home me. I didn't want that to happen. 

Don't get me wrong. I made "friends", there were people who liked me, but nothing to hit the ceiling over. Nothing to convince me that I was coming in to my own. Nothing to convince me that I had made an effort. At first I blamed it on the city and the flakey, too busy people who thought they were so much better than me. I even blamed it on the cafeteria food which currently has bloated my stomach to resemble something akin to a camel with scoliosis (yeah, it's that fucked up). But who am I kidding? I'm to blame. 

I really don't want to waste this post going into my miseries and my whoa-is-me's because I do that enough already. I'm a whiner. I complain a lot, and sprinkling it all over with some poetic words and moody diction doesn't really change that. Things are the way they are because of me, and it's a hard pill to swallow but I'm trying to force it down. 

Yeah. I don't really like using the internet as a platform for my innermost feelings. I know that's what it's come to principally but there's something rather depressing in showing the world just how much of a depressing person you really are (I need to stop). 

I'll just close off by saying that I wish things we're different. I wish I wasn't so sad all the time. 

Oh Whoa...I'm Posting Again...

But I don't think this will be a very long post. I don't have much to say and my mood has been absolutely bleak and foul this month. So the good news is that I'm possibly (and I stress possibly) getting back into school this semester thanks to some generous benefactors. The bad news is...well, everything else. No money for books, might not be babysitting as much anymore which means less money, and I probably won't be in school for the entire year-- which means that I'll be back in my grubby little hometown staring at my ceiling for another depressing few months. 

Things aren't great and I guess the only concession is that they could be a whole lot worse, but right now those two lines are blurred and I'm too tired and defeated to be optimistic. So I guess that's it for now. 

Oh, and the writing thing? Don't even ask about that.