Why is every word I utter
an apology? Why is everything I say an
admission of guilt? It's not like I'm a stranger to
fucking up; it's just that I've never experienced it in such dense concentration before. January has seriously been
the worst month of my life, and if the rest of the year turns out to even closely resemble this unending
torment of
failure upon
failure upon hideous fucking failure, then
I'll send you a postcard and a '
fuck you, God' from
Hell.
"Yes, hi. How'd my Monday exam go? Heh, well ... Mmm. If I were to tell you that, in four weeks time, I'll have to take it again, well ...? Yes, I know. No, it's not that I didn't study, it's just that ... What? No, I studied every goddamn day for that shit; I just didn't ... I misunderstood the question, really. He'd written something like, 'explain how to compose a database for web use', and it involved reciting every silly little method, planning structure, abbreviations and diagrams known to man. What? Yes, I know I'm supposed to ... Look, it's not like I'm the fucking memory man! Huh? Sigh. Yes, I know, I'm not supposed to be yelling at you. It's just that ... yeah. Yeah, I know, I know. I'm sorry. Yeah. Look, I'll talk to you later, okay? Bye."
click. sigh.
"Yes, hi. Yes, I know we were supposed to hook up today to work out our exam pitch this Tuesday. No, I didn't stand you up, I ... What? Yes, that's true, I wasn't there. Or, rather, that's what I thought you guys weren't, until I went home and checked my mail and saw your e-mail yelling at me for failing to show again. Huh? How could I possibly be doing this on purpose? How is it even conceivable that I could be making this shit up? Do you think I'm some sort of glutton for ridicule or something? Huh? Wh... well, yes, I know, I'm not supposed to be yelling at you. No, I didn't mean... Yes, I know. I know. I'll see you Monday, then. Yes, I'm sorry I didn't show. Yep. See ya."
click. sigh.
"Yes, hi. What's that? Am I mad at you? What do you mean? Oh, that thing ... about you making out with my ex-girlfriend in my apartment on the mattress right next to me, depriving me of the sleep I so badly needed on top of a week of frustrations, despair and general feelings of intense discomfort? No, not really - I mean, you're both free to do what you want. I mean, I know she just did it to make me jealous, which was a bit of a dumb attempt, considering that I have a girlfriend now that I love very much. No, it just pisses me off that she apparently feels the need to assert her 'I can still twirl you around my little finger' bullshit, an ability she lost a long time ago. Huh? What about you? Well, what about you? I mean, you're one of my best friends, and we had a killer time only two days ago. Huh? Of course we're still friends. About her? Well, I couldn't really give a shit. I just got pissed off with the incessant slurping sounds and the fevered panting and the murmured talking that seemed to deliberately keep itself at a level of volume so that I couldn't make out what was being said, but so I could still hear that you were, in fact, talking. If I'm paranoid that you were talking about me? Of course I was; I mean, I know her. She's fucking mental, you know! What? Yeah, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's not ... Yeah. Look, I'll call you later. Yeah. Bye."
click. sigh.
I hate life.