Her name was Lisa. I met her at College Orientation and immediately knew I was going to make her my girlfriend. I did. I fell in love. But then she moved to Florida and broke up with me four days before my birthday. Our relationship officially lasted 8 months. She broke up with me just over 8 months ago.
Of course I still think about her.
We promised to stay friends. And to maybe try again if it were ever possible. She moved back to her parents house sometime during the summer. We've talked only four times since June.
I just finished talking to her again. Over AIM.
I'm saddened. But I think I'm ok.
I think this is the climax of my depression. Or would that be whatever is opposite a climax? I'm not sure.
I have no SO, or even a possible one. I have no real life friends that I can readily see. My grades suck. School is blowing me. The one escape I have in the real world is my job, and well, we all know how pathetic that is.
But I think I'm all right.
Isn't that what we always tell ourselves? That we'll be all right and everything will be ok? We're silly organisms, that we are. Pessimistics are odd people. Optimistics are frightening people. And only with a healthy dose of both can one truly be happy. So what does that mean? Don't dwell on the past, and don't look to the future. Live in the today. One step at a time. Viva Las Vegas.
And yet we almost never do it. We never take it one step at a time. We think life is a chess game; and we plan for the future, and kick ourselves for losing our queen five moves ago.
I try. I remember just after September 11, 2001 how everyone was panicking. Worrying about war, the draft, future attacks. They asked me if I was worried at all. I told them no; I wasn't. I am not fearful of the draft because if the draft were to be enforced, that would mean the United States Army is losing to a bunch of cave dwelling goat fuckers. But aren't you afraid of future attacks? No; I'm not. The World Trade Center is a one time thing within my lifetime. The CIA and FBI won't allow themselves to be caught with their pants around their ankles more than once. I mourned for the victims. I gave them their day. And then I continued with my life. I did not see the point in worrying about the future of myself, or America. I would simply live on. Moment to moment. Day to day.
And yet I still pretend that it's all right. I pretend I'm living happily, and I pretend I am too busy playing counter strike and Diablo II to bother with real people. Heh. I amuse myself too.
Thank you, e2. For listening.