Let me apologize...

It’s been so long since I’ve posted. Twenty-seven days to be precise. I need to regroup. It’s been a little crazy since we last saw each other. I went to Texas. I started to write again. I’m still living with all my failures. I was happy for a while.

I think I’ve boiled down all my issues into a line. If I was ever a character in an indie move, I can imagine myself as a bystander to some pivotal scene, at a party in someone’s wood paneled living room. The person next to me turns and says something in an attempt to make themselves relevant to what has just happened. I imagine that we’re holding glasses of wine.

“Well, I’m a manic depressive with intimacy issues.”

“That’s rough.”

But even then, that’s not the whole thing. I am both of those things. I also love people. I fall in love with the people I see, people I never actually meet. I love the cool air in summer, and the way riding a bicycle without purpose can feel. I cry over gravestones belonging to people who died centuries ago. I like to watch hockey, and soccer and competitive sports, but rarely on television. I lose sleep over the anger that my friends have, anger that existed long before they met me. I want everyone to be happy, and I say that I don’t care about what happens to me, which is the truth. But people don’t understand when you give yourself away. People leave you when there’s nothing else to give, and they never give you equal parts of themselves.

I want so badly to matter. But how can I expect people, someone to want me, when I don’t even want myself?

[188]

I really hate hipsters, by the way.