I fear I will be ripped open and found unsightly.
I’m With You But I’m Lonely by Gold Panda
Central Park, 1944
Can you remember who you were, before the world told you who you should be?
026 by cliffbriggie
If you’re lonely, bored or unhappy, remember you are young. There is so much time to meet new people and go to new places.
I just finished my quiz and my midterm self-eval for my U.S. National Parks class (online) and did the 21 page historical reading on the German Anti-Facist youth group the White Rose from WWII for my Film Class. Productive Ali knocks out all of the stuff that could be postponed until last minute tomorrow. But now I have the whole day off. I just have class from 2-4 and then I get to hang out with the lovely Sarah and watch movies. Sounds perfect, no? Let’s be real though, school and working more or less full time is really hard and registration for next semester is hardcore stressing me out. I have to make an appointment with an advisor and oh god kill me now. I wish I could drop out and run away from America all together.
But Rob is sleeping peacefully next to me, completely undisturbed my fervent typing and the monotonous voice of my national parks’ lectures. I can’t wait to crawl into our bed. I can already feel the softness of the sheets and the warmth of his skin. His smell. God. I love the way he smells. He’s looking to get a new job at this place called Infinite Energy as a bilingual customer service rep, even though he was promoted to a manger at Joann’s. If he gets paid just as much and can get out of that hell hole, then that’s the best decision. Anyway, I love that fool, even if he doesn’t like David Bowie and has another million things on my oh-no-no’s list. I’m still madly, wildly, passionately, in love with him.
Recently I’ve been wicked depressed. I’m hating Walmart more than ever. I have absolutely no tolerance for any bullshit there now. The fucking customers are the worst part. Nothing attracts the crazies like a walmart. But just the total incompetence of my coworkers as well, pains me. These people are my friends. Why do they leave all the work to me? I can’t tell you how many carts of freight I’ve worked single-handedly. It’s ridiculous. I deserve an office job. I deserve something where I get a fucking vacation and paid more. I’ve worked over two years there and all I’ve gotten was a single paid personal day. That’s it. Talk about cruel. They never even excused my absence from when I was in the fucking emergency room even though I brought a doctor’s note and everything. Fuck that shit.
Enough about that, though. I’ve just lost interest in everything that was once important to me. I haven’t written, journaled, painted, drawn, listened to new music, watched any movies, or even played video games in a long time. Set off the depression warning signals.
I’m just waiting for things to get better while I enviously watch all my friends lead these amazing lives, internships in D.C./New York/L.A./London/etc. One of my friends even got into one of Obama’s instagrams. SERIOUSLY? I’m trying so hard to be more positive, but I just can’t. I told Rob the other day, “We live in a society where people can’t afford to dream, let alone go after them.” I maintain that statement.
Anyway, it’s late and I’m only up because I have a cup of coffee a couple hours ago. The caffeine is still kicking. I’ll just conclude my long personal rant with this: I’ve made October the month of being kind to myself, but I just don’t know how I can manage to keep it up or if I even deserve it in the first place.
Stephen Fry, Moab Is My Washpot
ODESZA - Say My Name (Slow Magic Remix)