After leaving a situation with other people, I often talk to myself about how awkward it was and how awkward I behaved, and cringe, and if nobody is around sometimes I scream.
every week is the same. every weekend is the same. and it’s not nice. no matter what I do it feels the same: not very good. I think I’m just gonna go ahead and decide right now to be a recluse for my whole life and pretend like I have more important work to do than to spend time and effort meeting/knowing/being with/loving people, even though that’s really the only thing I want but feel like I can’t ever do.
at least I know my ukulele loves me.
I feel like such a cretin now that I don’t have wikipedia to prop me up for a few hours. Oh god. What am I?
Must stay focused on things that distract me from how much I h8 my life. Must tell myself “I am being productive, I am learning.” Mustn’t think of my dying social capacity.
But once that insidious thought has entered the mind, it doesn’t leave until it wrecks some shit up.
Oh god, no.
Damn you Sunday. On Saturday night you seem like such a nice and distant thing, but by the time morning comes it’s just like a daylong bittersweet goodbye to the weekend.