who cares

you can read this. i want you to.

i need someone.  someone to call me.  someone to ask how am i am and when i say fine, to know that i'm lying.  someone constant.  anyone. even a little constant. 

i'm so afraid of not changing.  i'm terrified that everywhere i go it will always be the same.  i don't understand how to interact with people.  i don't get what i'm not doing right.  it just doesn't make any fucking sense.  you say hi, they say hi, you joke around a bit, you invite them to hang out, they say no.  or blah blah blah, you invite them to hang out, they say yes, then you hang out once and never do anything again.  it's so mundane.  gah.  so. . .  need a word.  tedious.  stupid.  social interaction is stupid.  and i'm so, so scared that i'll move to san francisco next month and it will all be the same.  i'll sort of meet people.  i'll sort of have people who i know and talk to and say something funny every once in a while.  but i'll never make it to hanging out with anyone.  never make it to actually having friends.  i'm so sick of being alone all the time.  i hate being alone.  all i do is sit around all day.  in my room.  alone.  wish i weren't alone.  it's fucking pathetic.  am i cussing more than usual?  i'm just not normal.  i want to be normal.  i want to interact with other stupid teenagers normally.  i want to care about the things they care about and do the things they do.  or rather, i want them to be like me.  but i just want one, for now.  just one person who will call me, sometimes.  one person to get all my jokes.  listen to the same music as me.  that's all.  i think i could stand being alone all the time if i had some one to give a fuck about me from some where else.  just some one to think about me.  sometimes.

i don't know what i'm doing, moving out on my own.  i mean, it's not like i have some one to move out with or anything.   but still.  i can't believe it.  i'm going to die next year.  just die.  what am i doing?  truth is i have no idea.  truth is i just pick whatever makes me feel the least bad and hope that it's what i should be doing.  truth is i have no idea what god wants me to do.  truth is i'm scared.  truth is i don't think i'm ready for this.  truth is i'm sexually frustrated and sexually confused, not a good combination.  i don't know.  i hate high school so much.  god.  god i hate it here.  i hate walking around by myself.  i hate it when people wave at me.  i want to scream don't even look at me.  if you cared you'd walk the ten feet over here and ask how i am, how's my day going.  what's that written on my shoes.  i hate the chit chat.  i feel like john nash.  i want to say lets just skip all this have sex, because that's what  i'm aiming for anyway.  except it's not.  i want to say lets just skip all this and go someplace and discuss our beliefs and morals and tell me your life story and everything about you and the things that make you sad and happy and nostalgic and lets talk about tolstoy and byron and sip chai together.  but it doesn't work that way, however much i wish it did. 

kim i miss you. 

anyone feel like telling me anything?  anything at all.  i really want to know. 

posted by: monsoon at 20:48 | link | comments (1) |

Comments:

#1  07 June 2005 - 23:40

 

This reminds me of things she's said so much...I couldn't say anything to her then, can't say anything to you now. Feels like saying anything would cheapen it, somehow.

Randis

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