Somebody. Something. Somebody! Something!

valentine’s day

i decided to not freak out about valentine’s day like i did about christmas.

so i bought him a tiny card that had a flower on it. and all i wrote on the inside is: “maybe we’ll just always be happier than ever.”

and that’s it.

now i worry about the grammar of that sentence. does that even make sense?

well, i already sealed the envelope. they must have invented envelope sealing for over thinkers like me.

er. i also bought a backup present. just in case.

hey, i’m feeling sort of crazy

like the female friend of the guy i spent seven months convincing that it was ok for me to touch his penis, that it was ok, i liked his brain the most, that he said the cleverest cynical self hating things, that i connected with him because i hated myself and the world too— i think i am going finally follow her tumblr

not crazy enough to follow his tumblr though

i saw a comedy show today. it wasn’t funny. it was so sad. i cried at the end. it was a 1.5 show of the saddest, commonplace, tragic, truthful, comedic through irony story ever. i made my secret crying face because i was among like 100 other people. it looks like a monster. a tear rolled down my cheek.

the last time tears came out of my face was when i watched Romona and Beezus on an airplane from india to london. four months ago. before that was 5 months ago when i thought the guy i spent 7 months convincing liked the girl whose tumblr i will follow today. before that, 1 year and 2 months ago, i got raped. before that, 2 years and four months ago, my best friend betrayed me.

i guess i am getting better at crying.

the sort of weariness you get when reading the personal blog of shallow, dim-witted person.

the sort of self-doubt you feel when you find yourself writing about this experience on a personal blog.

mixed with the uneasiness you feel when you sped through 30 pages of Infinite Jest (surely it couldn’t have been this easy, is it possible you completely missed the point?)

and the bad taste left in your mouth from running into an old high school classmate (last meeting, 2004, HS graduation) on the train going back to “the city”. he, too, was visiting his parents for christmas, but assumed that you still lived in your old hometown. you feel self conscious about all the bags you’re carrying (your mom sent you home with leftovers). he lives in midtown manhattan and considers brooklyn to be “a hike”. (you would never live in midtown, even if you could afford it, but never got a chance to say that because he prematurely cut the conversation off to “meet [his] sister at the front of the train” (you, the effortless stalker, saw him getting off at the terminal alone. no sister.)) he might not have remembered your name.

and the sense of dread that creeps and grows as you sit in your brooklyn apartment (let’s face it, it was a hike) with your coat still on, your jeans a little too tight, going through your ex-boyfriend’s tumblr who never called himself your boyfriend, when you really should be working on that paper for that academic conference that you’re supposed to care about.

a fresh sense of self loathing.

successful weekend! met my boyfriend’s parents and sister and didn’t fart in their faces and they seem to like me. WOOT.

i thought that maybe when i became an adult i would stop hating life. this hope has not panned out. i reject everything and i want to die. life only gets worse.

Ever have one of those people who want to be your friend and keep on inviting you to things, but you’re all like, “No, I can’t hang out with you, you and I have nothing in common, your voice is annoyingly high pitched, you act cuter than you actually are, everything you wear is from Anthropologie, your calves are the size of my thighs, you zone out when people are talking to you, you’re insincere and use your friends for guys to hook up with, oh, and, you stole my boyfriend” ?