Jaded October − 22 October, 2007
Another day drags itself spent and battered through the dirt, the sun long since completing its eternal trip across the sky. The feeling that I'm trapped in a hampster wheel is a pervading one. I never do anything that I didn't do the day before, and I'm left breathless that another October has almost left me by. The festive spirit has taken up residence everywhere, but I feel none of it. It's as if I'm looking through a window into a room crowded full of happy people. I can hear their laughter, can imagine the heat of their bodies. But still I'm left in the cold, the vapors of my breath clinging longingly to the glass in front of me.
The leaves have begun to fall from their branches. Usually, this time of year brings about excitement and a nearly uncontrollable anticipation. The air has finally begun to cool, and the scent of dying leaves and hay drifts affably through the air. But when I close my and take it greedily into my lungs, it burns with a crippling nostalgia for people and places I'll never see again, when a time in my life when merely the amber colored leaves drifting to the ground was enough to make me content. The coming of fall had always held so much for me, but with no one to share it with these days, it all feels so empty. The distrust and jadedness that runs through me like cracks in an old side walk dims everything and places a barrier to that which used to make me so happy.
Maybe that's just what it is to grow up.
I should be asleep. In only five hours I have to get up and force myself to go to this job that I hate more and more every day. It makes me want to puke. I'm treated like I'm incompitant and worked like a dog. And I don't like what I've become since I've started working there. It's taken the hope from me, made optimism a joke. I feel so old.
I feel so fucking old.
I've stopped talking to Cheryl. Her lack of perspective and objectivity has become painful, to the point that our friendship has died on the vine. It might sound bad, but I don't really miss it. I spent too much my money hanging out with her, and she never appreciated it anyway. And it's a little hard to connect with someone who's main concern each day is whether or not she got any new picture comments. Pc4pc anyone?
Loneliness is a frequent companion these days. I yearn for any kind of human contact, which I suppose explains the other night at William's birthday party (I still shudder at the thought). I have frequent dreams about being close with someone, and while the person is always different (Samantha is a recurring character, however) the feeling is always the same. In the dreams, as I hold this person close to me, there is a contentment that I couldn't possibly feel in my waking life. But at the same time I'm gripped with anxiety. It all feels so fragile, so fleeting. I'm afraid she'll slip like sand through my fingers, and she always does. I awake feeling empty and morose, and ill equipped to face the sunlight that will shine on nothing but the biting isolation and soul crushing work that is my sad existence.
And still, I cannot sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day.
The leaves have begun to fall from their branches. Usually, this time of year brings about excitement and a nearly uncontrollable anticipation. The air has finally begun to cool, and the scent of dying leaves and hay drifts affably through the air. But when I close my and take it greedily into my lungs, it burns with a crippling nostalgia for people and places I'll never see again, when a time in my life when merely the amber colored leaves drifting to the ground was enough to make me content. The coming of fall had always held so much for me, but with no one to share it with these days, it all feels so empty. The distrust and jadedness that runs through me like cracks in an old side walk dims everything and places a barrier to that which used to make me so happy.
Maybe that's just what it is to grow up.
I should be asleep. In only five hours I have to get up and force myself to go to this job that I hate more and more every day. It makes me want to puke. I'm treated like I'm incompitant and worked like a dog. And I don't like what I've become since I've started working there. It's taken the hope from me, made optimism a joke. I feel so old.
I feel so fucking old.
I've stopped talking to Cheryl. Her lack of perspective and objectivity has become painful, to the point that our friendship has died on the vine. It might sound bad, but I don't really miss it. I spent too much my money hanging out with her, and she never appreciated it anyway. And it's a little hard to connect with someone who's main concern each day is whether or not she got any new picture comments. Pc4pc anyone?
Loneliness is a frequent companion these days. I yearn for any kind of human contact, which I suppose explains the other night at William's birthday party (I still shudder at the thought). I have frequent dreams about being close with someone, and while the person is always different (Samantha is a recurring character, however) the feeling is always the same. In the dreams, as I hold this person close to me, there is a contentment that I couldn't possibly feel in my waking life. But at the same time I'm gripped with anxiety. It all feels so fragile, so fleeting. I'm afraid she'll slip like sand through my fingers, and she always does. I awake feeling empty and morose, and ill equipped to face the sunlight that will shine on nothing but the biting isolation and soul crushing work that is my sad existence.
And still, I cannot sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day.
