Barren

the floor and my bed + Travis, my laptop

~

1.
Here is a view of my barren bed, in an otherwise sparse bedroom. This room hasn’t been slept in since I graduated from college, which was almost three months ago. In fact, I haven’t slept that much in the last three months. At least in the normal hours. Always awake at night, asleep during the day – that has been my routine since March.

I thought I’d finally get to do regular things, after I was done with my thesis. Turns out I’ve lived the life of an owl for so long, I don’t know how to become a person anymore. Most of the time. Maybe the closest I’ve come to being an unsuspecting, normal female was sleeping in my parents’ bedroom in the past month.

Then again, no unsuspecting, normal female at age twenty-one would be caught dead sleeping in her parents’ bedroom.

2.
So yeah. Welcome to my life again, post-graduation, pre-first job experience. This is a long time coming. But I’ve always been a fucktard when it comes to noticing things, so hello, here I am again. I’ve erased all my crumbs from a previous life. This is an illusion I provide for myself so I’ll feel renewed, refreshed, or what other suckers call after coming from a fucking retreat.

I felt the need for disappearing because I wasn’t happy anymore. Granted I wasn’t happy before, and I am in no way happy now, but I’m not that bogged down so much by too many people either, so I’ll give myself that. I had to extract myself from the crowd. It’s funny how I thought I can surround myself with a lot of faces. I can’t. I just can’t.

If anything, it’s not anybody’s fault. At least, not all of it. It’s just that I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m really not sociable, and I’m snarky. My brand of smarminess is an acquired taste, I’m really, really lucky to have friends (and they’re so few). And I can’t fucking be myself lately. Going with the flow is just so tiring. And hell yes, most of the time I’m only in it for face value. I sit within a circle of people, try not to feel alone, and further push myself as to how much shit I can still take in.  And this happens every time with different sets of people.

But I always end up feeling exhausted, like I have put up with everything, when all I really want to do is run away.

3.
So I did. I got out at the right time. I’m glad I did what needed to be done: disappear. That was the right thing to do. In the future, when I’m old and gray and down to thermal underwear, I’ll be glad I made that move. That rarely happens in my haphazard life. I’m glad. Too many right choices and too many right paths make me unmistakably pretentious. I’m glad for mistakes, because then I can always have the guts to pull the rod sticking out my ass.

The benefits of having to extract myself out from everything else is learning a few things about me that I haven’t realized until I was in front of a big window one night, in a hotel overlooking the city, watching the city lights, and the moon looking so faraway:

a) I can’t do socialization. I just fucking can’t. I don’t know if I’ll ever change. I like people in general, but from a safe distance. I think strangers are interesting, but I’ll accept them in careful doses, please. I don’t know if it’s possible to OD on human contact alone, but it’s a thought. Anyway, for the past two years I’ve tried going out of the ”comfort zone” and being friendly, but I just can’t. Two years of having my back up against the wall is all about I can take. I want to regret at the time I’ve wasted, but as I’m going to file it under “Research”, I’ll comfort myself with the thought that at least I had the guts to explore the “what ifs” of my life.

b) It makes me sound like an ass, but I do select people whom I can allow to invade my “personal space.” In relation to having to conform to society and my attempt at socialization, I realized that I’ve let too many people get close to me, therefore compromising my usual judgment and lifestyle. I’m slowly trying to fix this.

c) I’ve confused myself as to who are important to me. In light of the previous two items, I know who they are now. I’m trying to get them back in my life.

d) It looks like I’ve given up entirely on who I’ve become by suddenly up and running, not telling people what’s going on and shit like that. I realize that I will do this time and again because I can smell self-destruction from miles away, and I’ve long ago programmed myself to run when I need to. But if you hear from me, even just the tiniest peep, while I’m on this selective stage, then that’s probably good, right?

e) I think damn too much and put out too much drama. It’s shit, but I have to accept it.

How’s that for some existentialist farting? I could go on and on. And how.