It’s 2:08 in the morning. I’m sweaty. Can’t sleep. It’s not hot, it’s actually quite chilly outside. I’m starting to come off my alcohol binge, a binge I use as a masking to subsitiute the reality principle defunct; something to mask my flaws, my inept social nightmare which confines me to a computer. Don’t get me wrong. I want friends. I enjoy their company. But whom can you find so early in the morning?
Rewind two days ago. I was having the time of my life. I hung out with my dad and we got haircuts, he even helped me with lending a few hundred bucks, I was asking out for comic con. But I feel out of some personal aspects, I don’t deserve to go. I must punish myself, seclude and deny society and it’s unforgiving stereotype labelling patrons. 2:13 am now. My mouth is sour from the bitter taint of alcohol. I want to bathe, feel clean and feel anew yet everyone is asleep and I wish not to wake them. So here I am, typing instead to keep my mind from exploding. I feel dirty for wasting 400 bucks, 6 months of preperation and soiling a relationship gone mildly stale friendship with one particular pink pachyderm. Things haven’t developed between me and the elephant, I avoid her when she returns from the con, satisfied and tired from her earthly delight; one that I too wanted to go to. I don’t deserve it. I’m a self loathing recluse, intoxicated and stuffed to the gills with pride. A walking complex which reeks of hypocrisy. My own failure prevents me from trying, and I still continue to hammer my self esteem into the ground. My inner self cries for help but my personality denies everything.
Apologizing to her will be easy. Apologizing to myself makes me want plant a bullet in my head.
