I'm fucking sick and tired of apologizing.
It's the same drill every time. I fuck up. (It's my specialty). I think about what I did. I feel sorry for it. I say so. I point out what I did wrong and try to convince the other person that they did everything right.
That's what I've ought to be doing now, but instead I'm sat alone at a table, staring at my phone. I'd have my mouth hanging open in shock, except there are a bunch of people around me, and they're all strangers. I only really stare openmouthed if it's in front of an audience. If I'm actually shocked, I don't do shit.
Anyway, what I'm staring at on my phone isn't much. Just my text messages. It's better than being on Instagram, because that's a shit hole. I mean it. It's a bunch of people trying to prove that they aren't living awful lives, that they're living the fucking dream. I never post there.
The text is from my friend, and it says that she's not going to be at lunch. Fucking peachy. I'm fine with it, of course. I figured this day would come eventually. In fact, I fucking welcome it. I can make it through lunch without talking to anyone. It's the same idea as my fucking bedroom. I'll just pull out Wattpad or something.
Maybe I'll message my internet friend. We normally talk on Wattpad but switched to Instagram recently, and I'm ashamed to say that yes, I did stalk her, and yes, she's hot as hell. In a boyish way. She has those squinty-eyes that I've always wanted. My eyes are slanted downward, so I always look sad when I'm sitting alone. I'm always telling people that I'm not sad. It's annoying. Instagram is the fakest app, I tell you.
Anyway, I'm getting kinda anxious, because my other friends aren't showing up. Well, my other friend. My best friend of sorts--it's messy, honestly--anyway, they have these two people they're real close with, who I hardly know. And those are their friends. I was sort of hoping that they'd sit by me, and I could sit near them, and we could maybe do something. I told my friend I'd make a Kahoot with them. Just something fun like that. They've been real sad lately. I hate it because it sort of hits me, too. And then I start making up these lies, like I'm a big empath or something. Bullshit. I can't even get sad when someone dies. If I'm getting depression from someone else, it's just me being selfish. Probably acting.
So I send them an Instagram message. That's where we talk. I shoot them a text, something like hey, are you at anime club?
They reply quickly, a little fuck, forgot about anime club / I'm in J.
J is the building I'm in. Sat alone. I look around, real subtle, so I don't get caught sitting alone like this. I'm fine with being alone. It's just when there's other people that it gets messy. Everyone's sitting with someone.
It's not too late to go, I reply. And I'm in J too. / Come sit by meeeee. How fucking pathetic. We're good like that, though. I can be pathetic and they're cool with it.
I'm in the corner with [friend names], they reply. Listening to Jared. / Wanting to cry.
I don't see that text immediately. That's because one of my friends is approaching. We're not too close. I can probably tell you her name. It's not like some stalker will find me. We always say shit about how someone will notice everything you post online. I think it's the opposite. Whenever I post, no one notices. I could post a fucking suicide note on here and my family would find it a few years later, if ever.
So anyway, her name's Cece. We used to be real close. Once she broke down in front of me, crying about some boy she likes who left to go to New Jersey. Then she hung out with the straight Christians. I'm too gay to be Christian. I went to a church last weekend and honestly I'm still surprised that I didn't burst into flames, right then and there.
