my sanity is nourished by small doses of being outside and alone, where no one knows where i am or who i am. i have no past, no name, no job, no expectations. i’m just a young man in a tight shirt.
mom, i’ve already promised like 6 people i’d call them. i think about it every day. i hate calling people. even if i like the person. i have nothing to say. feels like the more i give the less i am. the less i am a person who is anything or makes anything or goes anywhere and the more i am just somebody’s Good Friend. dad’s the same way. everybody loves him. and i mean everybody. but he’s empty. he spent his whole life giving himself away to whoever happened to be around or near him and now he has nothing and is nowhere. perpetually drunk. accumulated nothing and feels the crushing shame of American Poverty and numbs it with booze and drugs. he may have set the world record for most “Good Friends” Made, most Drinking Buddies, but at the end of it all he has nothing and no one. and i look in the mirror and see more of him every day. i catch an awful glimpse of him in the black of my screen when i’ve been typing for too long and it gets hard to see the words. the reason it hurts so ...
Los Angeles, 2016. It was just so hot. Early August. 85 to 90. Dry heat. Every single day. One of my first distinct memories is skipping out on the “Welcome Back Parade” to lay in sweaty heat with a girl named Gina, non-sexually, on my twin-sized dorm bed. We listened to “Closer” by the Chainsmokers, hating that terrible song together. It might have been the first time I ever physically cuddled with a female girl. It felt really good. Really really really good. That was all I wanted to do from then on. I lost her trust in less than two months. One day she asked me where I was going and instead of telling her that I was going to a Smash Bros Tournament I said that I was doing something else. Partially because I was insecure about the fact that I went to Smash Bros Tournaments and also because I didn’t want her to think I was blowing her off for a childrens’ party game. But both of those things were true.
In March or April I finally summoned the guts to see a real life therapist and look him in the eyes and say some words about myself and promised him that I would be back and then something came up and I ghosted him forever. I’ve done that to a lot of people but he’s the only one I wasn’t trying to fuck.
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