Hard times upon us.

I skipped class today again. For the umpteenth billion time. I did. This is not me. I am crushed. I am not feeling like myself. I am not in love with anyone and no one loves me. I am the largest third wheel you have ever seen. I am basically the third wheel to life. I have spent the past couple days drinking profusely, throwing up, making drunk dials and being really sad about it all. This is not me.

I want to find somebody I can talk to again. Someone who isn't over-priveledged and complaining about one drop of blood in a water glass. I have a full glass. You know I don't. I know I don't. But when I can't talk to anyone I want to kill myself. I'm too afraid of the person I want to talk to most. He's broken too and has perhaps buckets of blood. But I want to finally be with someone who will read the same books that I do, walk through art galleries with me, have that feeling in our chests like a hole has just been filled. Too many books and movies doing this job for you just isn't good enough. I need to make my way in there slowly but surely. I need to make you my real-life friend.

Trying to see the other side.

Have you ever seen Shopgirl? It's sort of a shitty movie, even though I love the actors and the cinematography is beautiful. The whole premise is about this guy who pretends he loves this girl, but realizes he really doesn't... and she realizes it too. And he isn't sure why he held her so far away. Maybe this is relatable. I'm fine, Im good. But I keep writing stories for other people. Where are my stories?

I feel a loss. How is it possible, to miss a person whom you kept at a distance so that when they were gone you would not miss them. Only now do I realize that wanting part of them and not all of them has hurt us both and how I cannot justify my actions except that... well... it's life.