I bought a pair of shoes yesterday and it was so fucking exciting that I cleaned out a new space in my shoe rack for them. And a real nice button down shirt because I look so fucking sophisticated and wow. Things are just going great. I can make things be great in a 5 second span of time. All I need is something superficial to focus on, always tangible enough to know it's really there, and boy am I set.
Over the summer it was fishing. I just really wanted to and I didn't know why. So I had my dad take me out to a stream and threw out the line or whatnot and bam, I was a god damn fisherwomen. I didn't catch a thing besides a minnow in a net. I physically had to bend down and scoop up the squirmy fucker with a net against his will, and then I let him back into the water. But all in all it was a good day, because I was out there fishing for no apparent reason other than I wanted a fucking rod in my hand and some bug bites on my ass, doing something for no reason.
Now it's basically a majority ideal rather than a fleeting whim. Play cards? Sure. Try some yoga? I guess so. "Things could always be worse, cathadoo". Yeah, I fucking know. I didn't always know.
I hated myself for the first time at 15 years of age. I did it because boys didn't like me. They still don't like me. There has never been a time when I have thought to myself "wow I am really racking up the men!!!" Not that anyone would probably ever say that. Har har I laughed out loud. But the point is I wish that's all that ever happened to anyone. It's very easy to say "ah hell, i'm lonely" and listen to some taylor swift and eat a popsicle and sit the fuck down and be okay. Not really ok but okay in comparison. I remember a couple months ago I was standing in front of a mirror fucked out of my mind. I was bobbing my head fast and it looked so cool because I was blanking out for like a millisecond between each movement so it was kind of like a strobe light. In reality I was bracing a sink and staring straight ahead and moving my head like a moron. Just alone. Probably came in to piss and got distracted. And that image from that night makes me so sad all the time. All the time. I can hate me then. Because it's the epitome of purgatory, and me scraping along the bottom of the barrel. Waiting for hell, hoping for heaven, doing nothing purposeful, just wasting the time. I think that might be the closest definition for life that I can come up with right now. Sharpening my pencils, ordering clothes, fishing in a stream, harping on social media interactions, hitting a ball with a stick attached to a circle head, it's all I can allow myself to be anymore. I can't trust myself to be anything more. It didn't work out so well the last time.
Directly after the bathroom incident I sat outside one night and swore that I couldn't associate with anyone who wasn't at least 2% less fucked up as I was. I didn't really know how I would discern if they qualified exactly with the 2% but I decided that I would just know. I waded through some cuts that I would probably have to make and never ended up making because one of them told me he was going to make it past my weeding process. And I thought, fuck no, you couldn't possibly fit under my 2% rule. And he saw the wheels turning and assured me that I had nothing to worry about, he knew he made the cut. My wheels were turning too, and I knew that they all knew, and it was time for a change.
