isolated.

disconnected from the world I know, here I lay

drifting in the empty space.

 

it would seem that somebody decided I was getting too comfortable in my new space, and has decided to uproot my entire life to make me feel as isolated as humanly possible.

the worst part?

that someone was me.

 

I decided to say what I said.

I decided to move where I sit currently.

I decided to conform to societal expectations of my academics.

and now I’m fucking miserable.

 

over all, I value genuine human-to-human connection above everything else. Making someone laugh, making someone smile, that’s all I ever want to do.  Feeling a mutual respect between myself and someone I enjoy spending time with is the best feeling in the world.

unfortunately, due to some recent oddities in my own behaviour, I am unable to do any of that for 5/7ths of my week.

and it’s killing me.

slowly, but surely, it’s wearing away at my ability to put a smile on my face and tell myself that it’ll all be okay.

currently, that ability is all that keeps me mentally sane.

 

in terms of my fuck-up, you and I both know I fuck up constantly. however, my usual route of apologise-then-spend-the-next-few-weeks-dealing-with-awkward-conversations-with-people-who-know-about-your-fuck-up-and-have-strong-opinions-on-it-but-instead-of-talking-to-you-about-it-decide-to-treat-you-like-dog-shit has become unusually painful the past few times, so I’ve decided to just full on skip it.

I know I fucked up. I’ve talked to the people I care about.
Frankly, the rest of humanity’s opinion is entirely irrelevant to me.

 

if nothing else, though, the forced isolation has given me a lot of time to reflect on myself, which has left me wishing I didn’t have as much time to reflect on myself.

something about the way i can’t talk to the same people i used to has completely derailed my perception of how others care about me, to the point where i don’t think anyone does.

the people I am forced to spend at least seven hours a day, five days a week with straight up do not care for my existence
and that really fucking blows.

and although the love and appreciation i receive from the weekend crew is never unappreciated, that can only suffice my hunger for human connection for so long.

it’s only tuesday and I’m already dreaming of getting zoinked with my friends.

that’s not a good sign.

 

 

to conclude,

• i’m really fucking stressed
• i have nobody
• i hate myself

 

that is all.