So I'm back at CCU, right? Right. Well, it's been fun. I mean, playing volleyball for the first time ever (love to watch it, never been brave enough to really try it), getting to work with the coolest people ever on campus, feeling like I might actually make a difference this year, rather than just sitting in the back of class, knowing all the answers yet keeping my mouth shut for fear of being ridiculed. But yeah. It's gonna be a good year. I know it -- I don't know how I know it, I just do. Maybe it's because I'm 19 and 9 is my lucky number. Maybe it's because I'm just stark-raving mad. I don't know why I know, but I just do.
So why am I sitting in my apartment, all by myself, eating a Hot Pocket at 9:30 pm, planning on sewing up a pair of PJ bottoms when I'm done eating? Oh, that's right. It's because I...you know, I don't know. I have friends. I could easily text them and ask to hang out. Some might even reply. But I'm too scared to. Maybe it's because they're not my close friends? But even then, when everyone else moves back to campus, what does that leave me with? Two, three people I can text and ask to hang out with? It's not like I can't make friends. I've been able to make friends since I could talk. I'm friendly (though some might disagree with that). I make friends everywhere I go. But I have this fear that they're only pretending -- that when all is said and done, I'm just that annoying kid that they talk to and "make nice" with because their parents brought them up right. Sometimes, I just feel like that little elf in Rudolph, who wanted to be a dentist, and everyone else looked at him like he was crazy. I feel like a misfit. JROTC was the place for the misfits of my school. There's a reason I was a part of it. And yeah, it's all in my head. By tomorrow, I'll have two roommates living with me, and I won't be all alone throughout the day, contemplating the meaning of life while a man with a heavy Mexican accent fixes the tiles in the dining room. But for now, I'm trapped in my own head, listening to its thoughts bounce around aimlessly. Ingrid Michaelson says, "Don't believe the things you tell yourself so late at night/And, you are your own worst enemy, you'll never win the fight." I feel like she's been in this same position. I think everybody has. Where you just want to say to your mind, "Would you PLEASE just shut up!?!" It never seems to listen to me.
I felt this way last night. I went for a second walk because of it. I was going absolutely crazy! I wanted to run -- run!! I don't run! Ever! There has to be a cockroach flying at my head for that to happen. But sometimes I just get this urge to run and run and run and run. I don't even know where to, but I just want to run as far as I possibly can, and then run some more. Is that normal? Probably not. I'm a little bit more than crazy. What usually winds up happening, if I'm actually free to do so at the time, is I go for a walk. I blast my music as loud as I possibly can, and drown out my thoughts. It's good at its job. Though there is an occasional moment where I feel like the music isn't loud enough and try to turn it up even louder. I'm probably going to blow out my eardrums that way. I really shouldn't go for another walk today. I already went for one this afternoon. I prefer them at night, but it's getting late, and I'm not even close to being done with this.
Names will be omitted, not for confidentiality's sake, but for my dignity's. This is, after all, linked to on my Facebook, and it would be just my luck for people to read this -- particularly one. Anyway, let's just say that there is a certain boy who is annoying the ever living crap out of me. And he's not even doing it on purpose. But he's managing to make me very angry and frustrated at this moment in time, and it's getting ridiculous. It's like, one second I can be the happiest girl in the world, just because he knows my name. But then other times he makes me feel like the spider I killed earlier in the RHA meeting -- small and insignificant. I know he doesn't mean to, really, I do. But sometimes, it just...really sucks, ya know? One second I think he likes being my friend, and then the next I feel like I'm that kid who everyone knows has a crush on the most popular guy in school, including him. He tries to avoid her, but somehow she just keeps popping up at his house, offering friendship bracelets and some weird collage of pictures of them that look both photoshopped and stalker-ish.
For the record, I'm not that kid. The most I can ever be accused of is staring for much longer than necessary, which, I'll have you know, is how I first spotted him! Yeah! So if you want to go on blaming someone for staring, blame him! I was just sitting there, minding my own damn business, eating my food and trying to not look as nervous as I felt as a freshmen, when I look up, and he's just sitting there at a table with his friends, staring at me. The most gorgeous guy I'd ever seen in my entire life, with the most beautiful eyes I've ever beheld. What was I supposed to do? Pretend like it was nothing? Yeah. That's easy to do. Especially when you go to as tiny of a school as I go to; after that, every time I turned around, there he was! Looked up during chapel one day, and bam! He was in the bleachers across the gym, directly in front of me. How is it my fault!?
I've probably said too much now. Well. It's not like I care. I'm perfectly capable of holding my head high. If, on the off chance, he's stumbled upon this, and actually read it, and figured out that it's him, then I don't care. If he's got a problem with my having feelings for him, then that's his problem, not mine. I'm a wonderful liar; I can pretend very easily that I'm just his friend. I'd just like to say, that I thought it was guys who were always complaining about being "friend zoned." Guess what? It's a two-way street, boys.
I shouldn't live alone. I think to much when I can't talk to anyone else but myself. And it's a wonder I can survive through meals, to be frank. I actually can't wait for the cafeteria to open. My God, I'm going crazy. Stay ducky and lucky.
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