Nothing Lasts Forever.
"Wow," I say as I sit here reading what I just wrote. That was quite more cathartic than I had originally thought. And I am substantially more preoccupied with love than I had thought. Oh, well. The whole idea of a blog is to wear your heart on your sleeve, so here it is, in all its vulnerable glory.
Depression comes in waves; every one can kind of guess that. I've been experiencing a very-low-frequency depression wave. "What's depressing, Mike?" I hear you ask. Well, for starters, I'm hearing things. The accident. Work. The fact that I have no money despite working for over a month. There are littler things, too. Well, they might seem little to you, but they've ballooned up in my mind. The fact that I still haven't seen I Heart Huckabees and that my mother won't take me into the city to see it. That fucking pisses me off. School has been crap lately and I wish I didn't have to think about it. I really need a day of, to sleep and get my head clear. "Could there be a hint of sexual frustration there, Mike?" I hear you asking. Jesus, leave me the fuck alone, will you? Well, you're probably right, anyhow. The other night I spent at least ten minutes discussing with Tarek "missed opportunities" we've had with women. To all the ladies (more likely, lady) reading this, these aren't real missed opportunities, mind you, but to men, anything where a girl we don't know smiles at us and we don't fuck her, that's a missed opportunity. Tarek had a million of 'em, as did I. Think about this. I was talking about this with TAREK. I've hit the lowest of the low. But it did make me think on two counts. One, about how much of a sad bastard I am, and two, why. I have always been as shy as they come, and this has been a real hinderance socially. I could never even bring myself to ask a girl to dance until I won't even say, except to say that it was quite recent, and even that was a struggle. You've probably read my diatribes on romantic movies. Mr. Romance movies who never even had a girlfriend. It's not even about sex. Other people I knw are so preoccupied with sex (or perhaps I've just seen too many teen sex comedies) but I really could care less about sex. Somewhere along the line I transcended from being preoccupied with sex like everyone else to wanting to find a soulmate, without even touching upon sex. Or not a soulmate. I don't know if I believe in soulmates, but you know. I always thought that the goal of dating was to find the right person, not see how many you can get in one go. To me sex is secondary, or even tertiary. By the way, that was the first time I ever used tertiary in a sentence of my own free will. Cool, huh? I know that I keep going on about them, and watching them to fill a void in my life, and to all of you, I'm sure that was obvious already. I've always envisioned when I fall in love to be sort of like Say Anything..., where I'm Lloyd Dobler, and whoever is Diane Court, only we'd be more like Annie Hall and Ducky from Pretty in Pink. I've always terribly identified with Ducky, and I know that's really strange thing to say, I know, even stranger than to say I've actually seen Pretty in Pink. "Are you saying all this because you are in love, Mike?" I hear you asking. You know what? I probably am. Or not. Why would I tell you?
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M. "Awesome" at 11:20 PM
