I hate those nights when I lie awake staring into the darkness with my heart pounding so loud I can hear the blood pulsing in my ears. It usually means I had too much sugar to eat too close to bedtime – tonight, I blame the insomnia on my own homemade pumpkin pie (which was totally worth the crash in insulin levels that I am now experiencing).
Why is it that nighttime is usually the only time we take to pause and evaluate the state of our lives? I suppose it’s the only time most of us stop running around doing the important business that life requires, but still – it’s awfully inconvenient. Nighttime is for sleeping, not self-reflecting. Yet my brain won’t let me sleep.
A couple thoughts bothering me this particular night:
Every time I return to my hometown, I’m instantly struck with loneliness as I realize that I really don’t have any friends here anymore. I did, once. I had enough friends in high school – I certainly wasn’t popular, but what’s popular when your graduating class is only around 150 people? But as soon as college struck, they all but dissipated. Is it my fault? Theirs? Is it just the natural course of growing older? I’m not sure. I know quite a few people who love going home because their social schedules are instantly filled with catch-up visits with old friends. When I go home, I sit by my fireplace and read and watch movies with my mom and my brother.
Does that make me a loser?
The thing is, I have the most wonderful best friend in the entire world – better than anyone could ask for. I’ve known him about 9 years now, and we’ll be soul mates for life. And he’s more than enough to satisfy my back-home friend needs.
But still… when he’s not around, I’m not going to any parties. I’m not having lunch with anyone. I don’t even have anyone to call. I just get to wonder what I did wrong, because I seem to have lost anyone I used to know in this dusty old town.
Along the line of parties… I don’t get them. I like parties every now and then, with people I know, but I’ve just never been a big party-er. I don’t like to drink, I don’t do drugs, and the claustrophobic superficiality of most large parties makes me want to cry to the heavens for the Gatsby-esque loneliness that encompasses me. Maybe that’s part of the reason why I don’t like them – it’s difficult for me to feel really close to anyone. Part of it has to do with the barriers I throw up, wishing to save others from the ill fate of having to know the truths that reside within me. And part of it has to do with the fact that I just don’t think most people are genuine. I don’t want to have anything to do with someone who can’t look me in the eye and be real. I guess friendly frivolities aren’t my thing. So why do I belabor the fact that I feel so disconnected?
Also, I don’t understand drunk hook-ups. Everyone’s had them, I know. And I’m not being judgmental here, I’m just trying to understand them. Because I really don’t get how they happen. I’ve only made out with someone whilst drunk once, and I instantly regretted it. I felt so vile, so disgusting, and all I did was kiss the guy. I just hated the fact that he wouldn’t be able to pick me out in a line of girls. I meant nothing to him, nor he to me, and I found that revolting. I suppose the fact that it was the worst, sloppiest kiss of my life doesn’t help support the cause. But I made a vow – never again. I’m too valuable to sell myself so cheaply.
Ha. I just reread that last sentence. I sound like a prude, or a snob, or just utterly self-absorbed. Why am I so self-important that I feel like a kiss from me has to be earned?
I heard a story today about a girl who was willing to give up her virginity to someone who was drunk. And that just made me sad. Sex is great, people – trust me, I’m a big fan. But again, I think the boy should be able to remember it. He should know that he’s the luckiest boy on the planet to even be looking at you.
On a totally random side note, in two days I will be 22 years old. And I will be celebrating my birthday at home, with only my mom, brother, and best friend beside me. And I will be up at four a.m. doing Black Friday shopping. I hate my birth date.
And finally, I have the background vocals from Pink’s catchy song Please Don’t Leave Me stuck in my head, and I blame them in large part for keeping me awake. Ba da da, ba da da – DA da da da da.
No comments:
Post a Comment