My name is Rachel. I am pretty rad. My idea of a good time is a mashed up banana and some cinnamon in a bowl. But not the cinnamon from the Apple Jacks commercial, because he kind of freaks me out.
I slept a huge chunk of the day. From eleven last night to nine, and then from noon to four-thirty. It’s not because I’m sick, particularly. It’s because when I feel lazy, or when I don’t want to follow through on what I have to do, I have the ability to sleep no matter what the situation. It must be in the day, because I can do whatever I can to sleep at night and will probably end up lying in bed, sleep avoiding me.
I feel so empty and freaked out, but not for any good reason. I wish I wanted to spend more time with other people, but I don’t want to spend time with anyone that I have to spend energy on.
College is getting to me. This is my standard reaction to college: overwhelming. Unlike last year, I have outlets and ways to combat it, but that doesn’t mean it still won’t happen.
I walked for two hours around the campus with Zeph on Wednesday night. We talked about how futile we both feel, about how scary the world is to us, how we don’t want to be tied down and yet can’t help wanting it at the same time. I think that I can’t avoid being his friend because he’s too much like me and I cling to anything familiar. And yeah, there are still feelings involved. Not romantic feelings anymore. I feel like the love I felt for him is still there, but has transformed into a sort of sad pity-filled love, a love focused on friendship and co-angst.
“I feel this way: like you are the one who I’ve hurt the most, and the one who deserved it the least,” he told me, while we walked.
“It’s true,” I said, “but I don’t care anymore.”
And I don’t. I hurt, I was angry, and now I am not anymore. I’d much rather have him as a friend. I’m sick of being lonely for him. And I’m not in love with him anymore. I’d rather have his company, now. He hates himself so much more than I could ever hate him.
In the meantime, I continue to feel uncomfortable at my job, and I continue to wish that I were not unreliable and irresponsible. But onwards I keep trudging.
And hey, I’ve knit three hats in one week. That’s productive.
