I'm not in a good way to talk to her. I don't think i can fake healthy and happy. If i can convince myself might be able to convince her. I can't do this anymore. I really want to run away.
My anchor has gone incommunicato- and im committing friendship suicide/murder. She'll find out for sure, i don't know why i did it, but i dont know what im doing. cancel that. I know what im doing, im going in this with my eyes open, but, the reasons are a little blurry. Maybe im crazy. Maybe it's too many cigarettes. Maybe it's just the strain.
The fucking research project going to the dogs. The 10,000 word essay due in May. The really smart and nice guys im in placement with who are so intelligent, coherent, confident and 'together': i wish i could hate them. The weight im not losing. the half bag of marshmallows i scoffed in 10 minutes. The 10 episodes of Weeds i just watched. The work i didn't do.
It aint a great place to be.
I dont want her to know. She doesn't need to know this.
But why do we tell?
Im looking for sympathy, some comfort, somebody to say that it'll be ok. 'Cause i dont believe me. Nada surf provides some comfort, but it aint real. Relief is temporary, this shit don't just go away with a playlist of soppy songs.
1 comment:
this is not relevant. this is something that has been resonating. this may not apply to you. this is just me wanting to comment, to say something despite me knowing that sometimes there are no comforting lies. this is a fleeting thought. this is not what you need.
but.
a wise voice once said, "never explain yourself."
the reasoning: those who matter don't need it, those who don't matter won't believe you.
Post a Comment