Alone in love

Girl

Wednesday 11th April, 2018

The levels of my happiness must liken something close to a heart rate monitor of an old, dying man in the local hospital, beeping up and down, bleep, bleep. The doctors would be staring at it, wincing and sweating as it bounces around on the screen playfully. Every time it improves, the doctors sigh in relief, turn their back, ready to go home. As they are about to leave the room, the screen erupts back into life again. 'Tricked you again, fuckers!' It would say, as if gleaming and gloating, suggesting the man will never be stable again.

In short, my life has gone shit again.

To me, the metaphor suggests that I will perhaps never be happy for a long period of time in my life again, aimlessly wandering in the highs and lows of the precious thing of life. As you can tell, a lot has happened. Again. So much so that I feel obliged to enter the miserable world of my diary.

College annoys me. As does my family, less so. West Brom are going to be relegated. I've only left the house about four times over Easter. I think I'm becoming unfit. I look less attractive by the day. I'm also becoming more awkward, I'm sure of it.

Oh, and Eliza blanked my friend request.

So yes, it sounds very 'teen-fictiony' and unimportant. But I feel as though I've been dumped without ever getting with a girl. It's my own fault of course, I lost my concentration, stopped thinking, became too overconfident. And now I'm depressed again. As per usual.

Eliza, who I dream about as my perfect girlfriend, had cold-heartedly rejected me, before I could even ask. I must be a creep. The worst thing is, a friend request isn't exactly anything serious, I'm hardly expecting her to strip down naked, ready for sex. Instead, she doesn't even want to be online friends with me, so a shag and a relationship seems as unlikely as an armless person being able to clap right now.

I genuinely hate college. In fact, I blame it for my depression, my anxiety, and definitely my disappointment at this latest rejection. While some of my friends left to work, or to get apprenticeships, I decided to carry on my wonderful education, enrolling at a sixth form college which I swear I will burn to the ground should I ever get the chance. Everyday I sit around an uncomfortably small table with my friends, some from the rubble of my friend group at school, some completely new. I like them all, they genuinely seem like quite nice people. They're not horrible, or arrogant, or ugly, or mean, they don't tease me, judge me, exclude me. And yet I blame them equally for my sadness. There's about a dozen in the group, half boys and half girls. The only problem is, I'm the only one who's not in a relationship. I can't blame them really, but I do. Last Thursday I was caught up in this conversation, it was myself and three of the others.
'Aha wait what did you do?' Lewis had asked, annoyingly snapping in, as if he was trying to poke his head into a personal conversation. Georgia and Hattie whispered to each other, discussing the date Georgia had gone on last night - I late found out that she have the lucky fucker a blowjob-.
Hattie squealed in laughter 'Oh my fucking God! Haha. She turned around and mouthed something at me, I didn't catch it, she giggled away.
'Lewis I swear to fuck if you tell anyone, I will...'
Hattie turned to me 'So James' she said, laughing, 'how's your love life going on? She laughed again.
'Oh, you know, coming on leaps and bounds. That kind of thing.' I had said gingerly.

Hattie knew my situation, but I don't think she was teasing me. I had responded sarcastically, perhaps embarrassed that I had kissed less girls than she had slept with boys. I mean, she's hardly a whore, it's not like I've actually kissed a girl before. I didn't feel embarrassed talking though, and after a while I realised I was happy again, I was talking to girls (even if they had boyfriends, and probably found me as attractive as Stephen Hawking) and before long, my confidence was high, and I was ready to start talking to girls, then flirting with girls, then kissing girls, then sleeping and fucking girls! Life's easy isn't it? I could also finally fit in with the group.

Read the ninth line again.

I've been tricked by them, by my supposed 'friends'! Everyone says you should ask that girl (or boy), I mean the chances are they'll say yes! No. They're fucking liars as well. Eliza won't even accept my friend request, I feel embarrassed and beyond miserable. It's all my friends' fault as well, sitting there happily in their sex-filled, wonderfully-perfect relationships, while I sit here emptily, as if I've just had my pants pulled down in front of my entire year, my bollocks glistening in the reflection of the appalled eyeballs that had the misfortune to see them. That's why college is shit, because it's as if I'm being dragged kicking and screaming by my friends into becoming a person that I don't really want to be. And I can't do it, which hurts me. I hate being told what to do and who to be, and I can't seem to go a day in my life without it. My teachers are the same. I worked hard at school, and I still do now. But I can't just work hard now apparently, now I have to have 'enthusiasm' for the subject! Fuck enthusiasm. I have lost count of the number of days I have spent on a Monday morning learning about the UK's fucking constitution, so much so, that the only enthusiasm I have towards the subject, is to write down the whole topic in my book, and then shove it up my teacher's arse! Problem is, I still want to go to University, so for the time being my teacher's arse remains untouched, as she tries to change me into enjoying politics. She's wasting her time, although I probably shouldn't have mentioned that last lesson to her. At least she now hates me as much as I hate her subject, I mean, every cloud you know?

I'm going through stages of grief right now. Online rejection is sweeping through me like I've just got a disease. I've listed the following stages as follows:
Stage 1: Realisation. Fuck she's rejected it. Fuck. Fuck Fuck. Oh fucking the sweet Mary's arsehole. Jesus fuck.
Stage 2: Paranoia. I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo. Fuck. Might as well change my name from James to Jimmy fucking Saville. What if she tells her friends? What if every girl thinks I'm a creep now? Jesus, this is one the biggest mistakes of my life.
Stage 3: Determination. Right, what am I going to do, or say? I could play it off as an accident, but no-one's gonna believe that. Try to play it cool? How? And how the fuck would I do that? She thinks you're a fucking creep, so get used to it.
Stage 4: Acceptance. Ok, it all ok. Maybe she didn't mean it. Look, it's not a big deal, she won't mention it to anyone. Calm the fuck down and stop overreacting.
Stage 5: Anger. I've thought of some things to say to her if I had the balls. My best response was; 'Look, I'm a quiet guy. I'm relaxed, unambitious, and I don't go after girls like most boys. I barely ever ask anything of girls first, so to send a request to you is something completely unnatural to me. In fact I delayed it for so long, I was scared. Eventually, I plucked up the courage. I took a leap of faith, because you know, fortune favours the brave eh? So what right do you have to just spit me back out like that, as if I'm just another guy trying to get into your pants. Fuck you.

Of course, I haven't said this to her. And that's probably a good thing anyway, I mean, I'm sure she would have zoned out after the 'unnatural' bit. Fuck I'm a loser.
'There's plenty more fish in the sea mate!' Lewis would say, but there's also a bunch of fucking whales to, and I'm not going to mention it to him, I'd just be slaughtered. Christ I had a massive crush on her. Fuck. If there was a stage six, it would be all the previous ones together.

I'm actually so miserable, I fucking hate girls.