I'm very upset, and I'll probably take a lot of this back once I take some time to think about it more soberly. But I feel the need to shit all of this out somewhere.
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I am sad. My brain is foggy. My vision feels blurry. Nothing interests me, as if the juice inside the fruit of all things in the world was never actually there. You know exactly what I'm talking about. I got next to nothing done this week. My room is embarrassingly messy. I'm sleeping simultaneously not enough and too much. I'm late for everything. Everything I say is stupid and/or mean and offputting. I smell like shit. I'm breaking out. I can't read. I feel dumb. I hate myself. I'll get over it.
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Enid is strange. She's a very difficult and strange person. I feel strange about her. I like her a lot. I even relate to her. I am obviously attracted to her. I also really distrust her but that doesn't mean I hate her. She's doing bad shit to her friends, and she doesn't seem to have any interest in taking responsibility. She also doesn't seem to really understand what she's doing, ever. That doesn't justify anything. I just feel really bad for her.
I hate that it's becoming clearer and clearer that she likes me. If this were a couple years ago, I'm sure we would be in a fiery situationship, complete with wild binge-drinking and endless book recommendations, and it would be awesome and miserable. But now? I can't. I completely can't. I can't do this again.
Enid, you are mean to the point of cruel. You are cruel and inconsiderate to the people that love you. People do love you, a lot. They wouldn't feel so betrayed by you if they didn't. You do not have to burn every single bridge to the most important people in your life. I swear to the God I actively deny that you are loved. You are loved no matter how shitty you actually are. Everyone you know is visibly damaged goods. Just give whatever this is up. It doesn't fucking matter. It's over. It never began. Stop fighting your friends. Come home.
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I've been hanging out with Julia a lot. It reminds me a lot of how Blakae and I used to hang out, in libraries until they closed. She's incredibly blunt but maybe naive, given that she's three years younger than me. She's younger than my sister. Sometimes I envy her youth, which I know sounds fucking psychotic for a 22-year-old to say. Sometimes I wish I was that young again, so I didn't make the mistakes I would later make. Bad impulse, I know. If I had a big emo band or dropped out of college, I would have never met you, man! She's been telling me a lot about how she thinks of my friends, and it's making me completely disgusted with myself and everyone, to be honest. I'm in a clique. We are in a clique. A legitimate, tuition-funded clique that alienates outsiders and literally fucks its insiders, who are never quite sure they're actually inside, and always have to ward off their feelings of insecurity by showing off. That's perhaps all groups of people, but fucking hell, man. I don't believe in this at all.
I think I need a break from everyone. Like, for real. I need a fucking breather. I need to go for a walk. I need time to think. I need to be alone.
I'm sorry, Julia. I am sorry we have made you feel so terrible, my roommate included. I remain your friend. That's all I want to do for anyone.
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I've been partying too hard. I'm disgusted with myself, even though I haven't gotten all that crazy with it, all things considered. But I'm pushing it. The other night, I asked Enid and this other girl who apparently intended to hook up with me to come home with me. Not at the same time, but I asked one and then the other. Enid was in earshot of my first attempt at shooting a shot. According to Julia, she felt "awesome" being "my second choice." Typical drunken shenanigans, but, no. Fuck this. I hate this. I hate myself for having done this. It's my fault, no question. Nothing to be done but never do it again. But, fucking hell, this is disgusting. This is not a side of myself I ever want to indulge again. Just, ew. Fuck me and fuck that.
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I had coffee with my friend Will. I haven't seen him in a while. He is an understandably disliked guy by some of my friends. He says and believes questionable shit. He almost finished a Bachelor's of Education, but had an extremely drawn-out falling out with his mentor teacher, and completely changed gears to wanting to become a corporate lawyer, which I know for a fact he will be scary good at. He's the kind of guy that takes full control of a room in a way that's beyond intimidating. He's as ferociously smart as he is in touch with impulses. His interests are also really varied. He used to run a frathouse, and really likes Bert Kreischer and doing cocaine, but also is really interested Jacques Derrida and Celtic Christianity. He knows exactly what he wants. He's the kind of person I imagine actually run society. I'm occasionally put off by him, but I absolutely respect him. I find our friendship strange. I don't know why he likes me as much as he does. He once told me that he doesn't really know either, but that there's "something about me." I get that a lot.
One time, while camping as a teenager, my dad told me "You are instantly likeable. Use that superpower for good or evil, preferably for good."
I kind of needed to talk to him this week. I didn't tell him anything about my infinite woes, but his take-no-prisoners attitude is something I needed to be around. He's the type of guy who wholeheartedly believes life is what you make of it.
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I feel like I don't know what my interests are. I like to write and I like to take photographs. I feel like I'm not smart enough for anything.
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In one of my favourite classes this semester, we had the former president of the Alberta Teachers' Association come to speak. His claim to fame is that he led the largest teachers' strike in the history of the province in 2002. He was this really approachable but impressively methodical guy. He was immediately kind and had that this battle-worn intelligence that doesn't show off, and instead attempts to truly reach others. He's the kind of man I want to be when I grow up. For whatever reason, he told us this one Jewish story about this woman who asks her rabbi how to be good, and the rabbi tells her to pretend to be good for six months and report back to her to see how she feels afterwards. After six months, she says she feels better, and the rabbi tells her to keep pretending. I do not feel like a good man. I ought to pretend that I am, though. I don't have anything else to do.
For the rest of the day, I will pretend to be good.
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In all your faults, I'll never forget any of you. I will love all of you forever. My only goal is to have been a good friend.
