In a recent effort to disengage myself from many people's lives and in order to maintain my sanity, I have largely parted ways with my online communities- primarily facebook and tumblr. Especially tumblr. Yet, I find myself desperately wanting to talk to the world, on the off chance that someone important stumbles upon the unimportant things I have to say. This ancient blog of mine seems to be the perfect channel for this need. It is safe from most everyone who would even want to read it, and somehow knowing that a few people have this stupid URL tucked somewhere in their memory provides enough purpose for me to begin to use it again.

Today started with a hangover. I dreamed of drinking water, almond milk, coconut water, everything. When I got to work I had a headache, and their were two juggalos sitting at the bar drinking iced coffee. "Whoop whooop" was on loop in my head ever since. It was slow and I forgot a book to read. I had to plunge a toilet.

I met a boy at this party and flirted with him all night. I'm not even sure why, because I'm not attracted to him. I guess I was flattered by the fact that he remembered seeing me many times before, told me where and when, and I had never even noticed him. It provided some kind of solace for me in an arena that I have recently felt devastated in. I had drank 2? 3? God help me, maybe 4? 16 ounce Tecates. I remember vividly telling him to come visit me at the coffee shop. Oh, and he did. He did. The many men who visit me at the coffee shop are always of interest to my normie coworkers and geriatric customers. I hate having to explain the details of these relationships to them. 

When I got home I immediately walked to the hospital to visit my friend in the psychiatric ward.

Everywhere there were signs posted about securing your person and making sure the doors don't stay open too long when you're buzzed in, because everyone is a flight risk. I saw him and he could barely muster a smile. He's not any better than he was a week ago, only much more medicated. He didn't even know how long he had been locked away in there. He said he couldn't read, couldn't sleep, because he couldn't concentrate. He could barely carry on a conversation, but what could we say anyway?

I feel selfish for even mentioning the emotional impact that trying to navigate these circumstances with him has made on me. I feel traumatized by it. I'm so terrified that he's not going to come back. I need support, but I have nowhere to get it these days.

A particularly sensitive subject on my mind is, always, romantic relationships. It seems to me that every man I have ever dated has been deeply committed to gaining my affection, and the moment he has it, disengaging. I feel sabotaged. Did I do something to you in order to deserve this, dickhead? Have I behaved this way to a partner before? I'm trying to untangle why this has happened to me, or what led up to it... Did I show him my snuggie sack fleece suit too soon? Did I reveal too much about my history with another person? I know I wasn't weird sexually. He was the weird one. Yet, I think this is ultimately unproductive. At the risk of referencing a stupid book and an even stupider movie, I guess its possible that, after all, he's just not that into me.

Despite all that I stayed in listening to the radio for his interview, tried to tell myself he sounded so stupid when he talked about thrash (but he didn't). I decided to pull on my running shoes (thanks mom!) and do a quick two miles before I settled in. As I tightened my shoelaces I realized that there was something moving in there. Of course there was a cockroach in my shoe. There fucking would be. I ran what used to be my regular route, winding through my neighborhood. I haven't run on the road in awhile, and I realized how much harder on the knees and ankles concrete is. After about the first half mile my iPod died, so I ran the remainder of the the route without music, something I have not done in a long while. (An aside: I've been listening to hella Title Fight on any run these days). It was refreshing and I made the distance easily, so much more easily than I ever did last November when I took that course regularly. I can't believe I've identified as a runner for nearly a year now. I aspire for distance rather than speed, and I've already clocked well over 20 miles this week.

Bruce Lee said some shit about not desiring an easily life, but the strength to endure a hard one. Yeah.