I know I don't know.

Love love love.....

the impossible mystery.

I've spoken the words to three. When I said them this time around, they had been bubbling up for weeks, sitting, waiting on my lips and the tip of my tongue. But were they untrue? I don't think so... It's the ideal love bit that confuses.

I don't know what this is.

We got in our first BIG fight last night.... It was awful. I cried a lot. And he said things that I couldn't believe. After all of it, when apologizing, he said they were stupid things to say, and that he was just confused and bad at verbal communication. To tell the truth, I don't know if those explanations are good enough for me. I'm giving the benefit of the doubt this time, but I still can't help but feel different. Detached. I guess this is pretty like me. I let myself become vulnerable, on purpose, and then I got hurt, just like I was afraid I would. So now I'm closing off.

And of course it got me thinking. How impractical our relationship is. How long do we expect this long distance thing to suffice? I think he's waiting for some imaginary time in which we'll be back together for an extended period of time, but I don't see that coming, unless one of us drastically changes our plans for the future. And I don't see either of us doing that. So where is this going?

And my biggest concern, yet, is this: my very thoughts. Now that I've begun thinking about these things, these things I've so skillfully ignored in favor of blind hope, I probably won't be able to turn them off. This is how the beginning of the end of my relationships always goes. I plant the seed and then it just slowly grows until I can't ignore it anymore.

I hope that's not the case this time...

I'm sure I'll be able to go back to ignoring it for a time. I'll be busy with things, it'll be convenient to forget. But inevitably the thoughts will return, I'll be unable to ignore them, and I'll eventually have to do something about it. Should I bring it up with him? I don't know. God, so stupid.

loneliness

I just read Roger Ebert's blog post on loneliness and it got me thinking....

Like Ebert, I never really felt loneliness and never really do. I enjoy being alone. I like reading, being in cities by myself, going into coffee shops by myself. I enjoy these things, and I remember Troy telling me many times how lonely he'd feel, and I never really understood that.

But then I think about my dreams and wonder if there's not some deep fear of loneliness somewhere inside me. The worst dreams I've ever had aren't scary by any typical definition. They don't involve monsters or gore or wreckage of any physical kind. Instead, they are the dreams where my friends despise me for no reason I know of, and there is nothing I can do about it.

This causes an upset in my self-perception. I don't think I really care very much about what most people think about me. But, if the feelings from my dream are any indication, I need acceptance, even if only from a select few. The only times I can recall feeling complete loneliness is from those dreams. Or was that even loneliness? It was also hopelessness, desperation; are those just elements of loneliness?

Perhaps I have felt loneliness and simply labeled it as something else. Emotions are funny things.

I remember, in younger years, imagining up these romantic scenarios. I never minded being single, but I still dreamed of these wildly romantic meetings. It was never with desperation or longing, is the weird thing. It just seemed nice.

Now, the weird thing is, when I think of what these encounters looked like, it seems like I was often being "saved," in some way. I'd be walking or sitting alone in the rain, or in my own world reading a book or writing or listening to music. And along would come some guy (I never even really imagined what he would look like or sound like or say), and he would just fall in love with me, on the spot, and know I was the one for him. The little fantasy never went anywhere else. I don't recall any specific words ever being exchanged, no montage of our courtship or future together. That was it.

And then there's reality, and in most cases, I am the savior rather than the saved. I seek out those that are alone, sad, broken. I don't really understand myself.

I love songs about loneliness. Pure, hopeless loneliness. I can't explain this.

It seems I am in constant contradiction, which is in accordance with a lot of communication theories, so I guess it's supposed to be natural, but god is dissonance irritating.

It's better to feel hurt than to feel nothing at all.

Yet, I find myself constantly on the defensive. I am always reacting to numb myself, to keep my defenses high. It's become a natural reaction. I don't even think about it; it's not a conscious decision I'm making.

I hate that. this. This isn't who I want to be. I want to let people in, in a genuine way. I do let people in, but only in a practiced way. Except when I'm drunk. And then neither of us know what the fuck is going on. the last time we got drunk together I ended up sobbing. I don't even know why. I must have blacked out at some point. I remember being in bed, kissing. Then it jumps and we're still in bed but I'm crying and he's asking me why. I don't know what happened or why I started. That's how high my defenses are. Apparently I don't even fucking let myself in unless I'm trashed.

I want to work on this. But I don't even really know how. It's so automatic that I don't even realize when I start doing it. I'm just constantly defensive, and it must be so exhausting for him. Which only makes it worse. I'm so convinced at any moment he's going to realize I'm not as fun as he thought, and I'm not all that worth it. I'm too much work, maybe a little crazy. And then god forbid I be on the losing side. God forbid I get hurt or feel anything even mildly unpleasant. Well, fuck, I've already lost; THIS is unpleasant. I don't like how I feel out of control of my own brain, my own reactions. This is certainly worse. Hurting myself from the inside, self-sabotaging. That's certainly worse than getting hurt from the outside.

Goddamnit. I need to figure out how to work on this. How to catch myself and stop the crazy derailed train of thought that fuels it.

I need to like myself.

I haven't been writing in my actual journal much lately. Or in general, I suppose. But when I have, the locations have been scattered. Here, in random notebooks, scribblings on pieces of scrap paper. Maybe I just need to start carrying it with me. Or maybe the scattered notes are somehow more indicative of my character.

What have I been thinking about?
I've been noticing how I've been keeping my life so much smaller than I used to. That has led me to a question: Is this a sign of maturity, or a sign of cowardice? I will make a case for both and see if it brings me any clarity.

Maturity. I used to have tons of friends and hang out with people whenever possible. I don't need that any more because I don't need constant reassurance that I am well-liked. I don't need other people around all the time to make up and define my personality. I am now able to decide for myself who I want to be and am comfortable being myself, by myself.

Cowardice. I've been burned so I'm afraid of involving myself too much. I don't want to invest myself because something might not work out, I might be disappointed, I might get hurt.

There's probably some truth to both of those. I just don't know if one outweighs the other or not. I think it makes a difference.



A big topic I've been thinking about is my relationship. Tony is, in some ways, very very different from me and from anyone I normally surround myself with. This has sometimes been a struggle for me to understand his behavior and attitudes. At other times, I just fucking love it. I love that he can be so different from me but we still share the same important values/views. I visited this weekend for the first time in his new apartment. He seems really happy with it, which I'm very glad for. We made dinner both nights and I know he loved that.

On the second night, we got pretty drunk off of very strong margaritas he made with dinner. We ended up talking a lot. He told me he had gone out to Seattle a few years ago and hadn't planned on coming back. Then he hadn't heard from his mom for a while and had a bad feeling that she was in the hospital. He called around and sure enough, she was. So he came back and as soon as he was back he felt like it was a mistake. This story stood out to me for a couple reasons. For as much resentment as I can see he harbors towards his mom, he still really cares about her and he's tends to be very loyal (I've seen this in many ways). But listening to him also made me sad. I was pushing for him to get his own place because I could tell how unhappy he was at his parents' house. But he just doesn't want to be here. He wants to be in Seattle. He said he's not unhappy here but I can't totally believe that. He wants to be out of this place. The only thing holding him here is his job/ the fact that he wants to show he can stay steadily at one job for a long period of time. I guess it just distressed me because I really want to see him happy.

After that we continued getting drunk then went to bed, and something stupid happened that made me feel like he wasn't really into it or focused or whatever. Something that probably wouldn't have bothered me if I were sober. But I was pretty drunk at that point. So I wasn't particularly rational at all. And when I get drunk, boy do the insecurities start flowing. He asked me what was wrong and kept urging me to tell him, I started crying. God, how embarrassing. After a lot of coaxing and convincing, I finally explained that I was just insecure, and told him something that had been worrying me. I told him about my "rough patch," also known as my "no self esteem slutty patch." I was particularly afraid of mentioning it because he had mentioned particular disgust with girls that go to bars and go home with guys. I hadn't been wanting to tell him that at all but I knew it was eventually going to have to happen... And he didn't even flinch. He was just comforting me and telling me it was fine and that everyone goes through a stupid phase like that and he didn't think any less of me. And that night we slept so well together and waking up was wonderful. I just felt really close to him and he seemed to feel it, too.

It scares me to think that I'm falling in love with him. The truth is, the word has already crossed my mind multiple times over the past couple weeks. It feels stupid because we've only been together for a little over three months. And just... gah, I don't know. It's the long distance bullshit. Seeing each other weekends actually is not that bad. But thinking about the long-run, it seems silly. I guess we don't know where we'll be in the next few years and time will only tell. I'm just really afraid of saying it, I guess. I'm afraid it will be foolish or he won't feel the same or whatever. So I keep telling myself to just wait it out, wait and see, get a better feel for things. But I think about it a lot, it's an itch I can't scratch. blaaaaaaaargh, I just don't like things being left undone in my mind like that. So it'll probably keep bugging me. Such is life.

"I choose to make it into gold."

I'm happy.
Man, that is so satisfying to say and mean it.
I am not entirely sure where I'm going in life, but who is and how could anyone really be? I have only a vague direction, but I think it's the right one. I want to help people. I feel certain this is what I want to do with my life. It's what has always been behind anything else I've ever thought about pursuing. Sometimes that goal has been more subtle, but it's always been my driving force, my desire, my goal. I want to help people, I want to be good to people, I want to be a positive force in every life I touch. I went through a pretty bad and confused period and I was selfish. It was my existential crisis, and I guess probably something I needed to go through. But it has only served to make me more sure than ever that, whatever I do, it's got to be for the good of those around me. I know what I don't want to be, and I'm glad for that. I'm in a good place right now. It was messy getting here, and I have a lot more work to do, but I'm very grateful for the people in my life and the things I've been through and everyone that has ever believed in me, and everyone that continues to do so and encourages me.

I have wonderful friends, wonderful family, and a wonderful boyfriend. The boyfriend is fairly new, three months. But we've known each other longer and I don't think either of us were mature enough before to be in this. But we are now, and it's good. It's really good. Though I know it won't be easy, I really hope we can make it last. We're good for each other.

"And I'm thankful for my present day, it just got here so please don't go away. I finally learned it's what I choose to make, and I choose to make it into gold."

So what is it then? Have movies brainwashed us into believing that true love is a romantic, passionate thing that fills you? Or is that how it ought to be? Am I settling if I don't expect that? Or am I being more realistic?

Probably, there's not a real, solid definition of what love is or isn't. It's all relative, like everything else. (This makes me understand why some people enjoy math.) But that causes a problem when I am in pursuit of some unknown "true love." How do I know what's what? Maybe not all true love looks and feels the same. Maybe sometimes it comes on slower than other times.

And I feel like an idiot just typing this, because shouldn't you just know? I think you probably should, and do. I knew the first time. So I think ultimately what this is, is me hoping what I am in could turn into true love. And I think, deep down, I know better. And then, that knowledge calls for more questions. Maybe this guy isn't my "one," but is that a reason to break up? It's still an experience, right? That's what life is about. But then, am I just wasting my time with him? Maybe the real thing comes along and I'm still tangled in this relationship that will ultimately go nowhere. Or, if I want to be a little less selfish for a millisecond in my life, what does this mean for him? I could potentially really hurt him if I stay in this with my idle hopes. Maybe he'd fall for me, and I wouldn't fall back.

This is why, every time I get out of a relationship, I tell myself, "I need to stay single for a while." Unfortunately I'm terrible at making commitments to myself, and my arms are around someone new in months, and my brain is telling me, "It could happen, this could be it."And I'll stay around trying to convince myself until it becomes absolutely necessary to leave because I'm breaking his heart. How fucking healthy.

Well, shit

he told me today that they broke up (again) and my breath caught in my chest.

that sorta ups the ante. not sure how i feel about that.

Dear You,

I think about you, you know. Often. Too damn often, with regards to how often I actually see you. After I kiss some other guy, I'll later think of you. How that kiss was nothing like kisses with you. How I just spent several hours talking to some guy who was just waiting for me to finish my sentence so he could talk some more. You always wanted to hear what I had to say. I mean, even tonight, we were just texting, and you were far more attentive to what I was saying via text than this dude was in person.

And it's always that way. Everyone is always held to the bar you created, ever since I met you. Even before we were actually together.

I still love you. There, I said it. I only get brave enough to just fucking say it when I've had a few drinks. Yeah, that's where I am, now. I have to drink to be honest with myself and to be really honest with people that haven't known me long. Even people that have known me long, I still keep things from them. I told you everything, because I knew you wanted to know everything, even the shit that made me imperfect. God, how I loved you and you loved me. I ruined it all. He ruined it all. And I let him. So I ruined it all. One of my good friends, he tells me what this guy did was actually sexual assault. But he was my friend so I labeled it a misunderstanding. It's funny, these guys you think are "nice guys," how they'll disrespect you when they know your wishes, then turn it around like you were in it together. But that's neither here nor there. I've had some beers so I'm going off on irrelevant tangents. Apologies.

Today I texted you. I was reading old journals for the first time in a long time. I read about my love for you. I read things you did and said and ways you made me feel. I forced myself to forget some really wonderful stuff, so that it wouldn't hurt me. But there it was on paper, forcing those memories back up. I asked how you were. We talked vaguely a little. Discussed a couple songs. Then, out of nowhere, you say, "You know you're terrific, right?" And I say, "I certainly don't feel that way, so I appreciate you saying so. Especially since I hold your opinions in very high regard. You're pretty terrific yourself." You replied, "Thanks, that makes me feel fantastic. I really hope we don't stop talking." I said, "Well we'll just have to make sure that doesn't happen." You said, "Agreed. It's quite simple really." You followed up with, "I keep expecting you to want me out of your life. I'm worried I remind you of bad times." I wonder how you could even think such a thing. By this time I know you're asleep, but I want you to have something when you wake up, so I reply with the truth, "I'm worried of the same for you. For me, it's quite the opposite."

I wonder, if you could possibly still love me. I wonder when you say things like that. Things that mirror my thoughts. Because I still love you. That's how my still loving heart thinks. I wanted to write you an email instead of this blog entry that you won't see, because no one knows this exists. But I thought better of it, because I'm always thinking better of things. The truth is, you have a girlfriend. I cannot, in good conscience, confess anything when you have a girlfriend. Plus, I'm a little under the influence, and I know you deserve better than an email written by a moderately drunk me. You deserve fireworks and movie scenes.

Well. I still love you. I don't know what else to say. There's no way to conclude this, because I'm not really taking any action. This will just be put into the abyss of the internet. I'm sorry I can't be more than that, right now. I feel like if you were single, I might have just drove to your house after you told me that. And maybe I would have been shot down, you'd tell me you just really valued my friendship. But that'd be better than living with my maybes. Maybe then I could truly move on instead of waiting for my big second chance, make-believing that you still, somewhere deep down, love me. I don't know if I'm fooling myself or not. Only one way to find out. But I can't do it yet.

And the truth is...

I'd like to fall in love again.

But I'm not sure I'll let myself.

please don't drop bombs on me, i beg of thee

Welp. It's Sunday.

This weekend, a friend/former boyfriend came up to visit. I smelled trouble from the get-go but, eh. The main plan was to get very, very drunk. I'm sure we do this because we're just oh-so-tortured in the cells of our brains when we're sober. Blah blah blah. On Friday, we started drinking at about 2:30 in the afternoon. We took the train into the city, got dinner, went to a bar, did an obscene amount of walking. It was nice out. My mood started off gloriously. I love the city and I love showing it to people. But as the night wore on, other things happened.

We missed our train by about 3 minutes, so we had to wait an hour for the next one. Early in the wait, he went in for a kiss. I stopped him and straight up told him it was a bad idea, that I know he gets emotional and attached and I'm not there. He said it was too late for emotional and attached but I kept the line drawn and he respected that. Then, we slowly sobered up and conversation went a sad route. You know, the usual, discussing our self-sabotaging, disappointments, romanticism, and how none of it actually matters in the grander scheme. Oh, being 20-something.

After such a dismal train ride, we decided getting completely hammered was the only way to bring the night back to where it needed to be. So we went to my favorite local bar and started our run with tequila. We were wildly successful, then went home and went to bed. The next day we were lazy until later. We went back into the city, had dinner, drank some wine & beer, saw an improv show, then went back to my apartment for more wine. I downed an entire bottled, single handedly, probably within an hour and a half at most. I was very drunk by that point, lying on the carpet and listening to my favorite band. Then he made the move, and I was drunk enough to consent. I'm sure you know what happened next so I'll spare the details.

Waking up was... whatever. A warm body is nice enough but bitterness instantly followed. I tried not to be bitter because frankly I should have known better, but still. I affirmed that it meant nothing and it was best forgotten about. Surprisingly enough, he agreed that was probably for the best. We got food, I took him to the train, he awkwardly kissed me goodbye and told me he loved me. I did not reciprocate.

I am tired of being this girl, and also not. I'll admit, I sort of like this careless drunk I become sometimes, because I like being a little out of control, and I like the way it tears down my walls a little, because I have a lot of love but I usually shade it for reasons that escape me after a few glasses of wine. I don't, however, like waking up in the morning with cold indifference for the person next to me. I'm not even saying I want to be in love with everyone I wake up next to, but I'd like to at least like the idea when I'm sober, too.

Meh. I'm sort of a train wreck on paper, but I don't feel much of it. I do feel my wind escape me when someone in particular crosses my mind. But I shoo it away. Sometimes I consider what would happen if I laid it all out. It'd be very romantic and sincere, to be certain, and it probably wouldn't even fall flat. But in due time, it'd fall apart, which would be more painful. Maybe someday the time will be right, but it's still not now. And I'm far from where I want to be.

I had a pretty good weekend. On Friday I had a good time and met cool new people and got to know someone that's been around for a while.

Today was okay. This evening brought me back down to a lesser level. First of all, the person I got to know this weekend, we have a mutual close friend. Much of our bonding involved discussing the strangeness and complexity of our relationship with that friend, and how little sense it made. Tonight, I was talking to that friend, and just came to such a sad realization. He'll never actually appreciate my friendship. I've always made all the effort. I always visit. I always wonder how he is and want to hear about his life. He never makes the effort. He never visits. Maybe he sometimes wonders how I'm doing, sometimes he wants to hear about my life or maybe just takes pity on the fact that I need to talk to someone about it. Sometimes he'll actually confide in me, but christ, why do I still try?

Other news: the infamous "he" talked to me tonight, too. His girlfriend apologized for wrong doings and they're back on track. I almost laughed when he told me. Laughed at myself. For my stupid fluttering heart being struck the fuck back down where it belongs. For the reality check I obviously needed. For history repeating. And for me not seeing it coming. Whatever.

Big Empty

Trying to fill up.

I've had one truly meaningful relationship. The rest were fairly empty in the end. I was able to fill myself with the meaning of the other things I was doing. Learning, being a good person, basking in sunlight, listening to music.

Lately, I've been trying to put enough empty in me to fill me up. Filling up with alcohol, with smoke, with boys that mean nothing to me. As if it will set me free.

Learning has become empty. This semester, I was required to take two business classes. It's the most meaningless shit I've ever had the displeasure of being subjected to. And what's more, I have to practice it, as well. For what? A grade? It just does not seem worthwhile. I know I only have a couple weeks left in the semester, but I'm having so much trouble pressing on. I hate what I have to do for these classes, it's such a waste of time. It is the opposite of creativity. It is the opposite of meaning.

As for being a good person, I'm trying to get back there. I grew up understanding that it was important to be a good person because god commanded so, and he was the purpose of life. Now that I've become agnostic, I'm trying to grasp having my own meaning. It sounds like it should be easy, but when you've lost so much hope, it's just not.

Music is coming back to me. I'm falling in love with albums again. Which I think is a good sign. Maybe I'm learning how to rebuild myself again. It's just tough when I'm in the position I'm in. I have to finish out this semester even if it's hindering my personal growth.

In other news, he's breaking up with her. I don't know what to think, do, say. My roommate says it means something that he comes back to me every time he has a problem or breaks up with a girl. Maybe it just means I'm familiar. Or maybe it means he feels the thing I feel, too. I don't know. I don't know if it even matters right now, the timing would be off right now, anyways.

The thing is, this is the only thing that has consistently mattered to me. Feels so unfair. We won't be living in the same place. Our lives are so different now. "A bird may love a fish, but where will they live?" And maybe I am simply his friend. I can only know how it feels for me. And I know that when I went to meet him last week, I felt strange things in my stomach and a giddy nervousness. This is not the kind of thing I thought could transcend years. I'm overwhelmed and tired.

Oh, sweet stranger

I sometimes wonder how creepy I am. There are people on campus I see and am intrigued by. Rather than mustering some confidence to talk to them, I stumble upon someone's facebook, and then surf from profile to profile, scouring for interesting information, for a blog link, for photos they've taken. Then, I let myself get to know this stranger and sometimes contemplate about his or her life.

This might be because I'd prefer think about someone else's life than my own. Mine's a mess, one I don't want to deal with.

A lot of people are into this formspring thing, where people can anonymously (or not anonymously, if they choose) ask questions and the person will answer them and post them to his or her page. I was reading the questions/answers on the pages of some of my friends. Someone asked, "Who is the most beautiful person you know?" She answered with my name. I was truly touched. And just so surprised. Because, really? I don't feel so beautiful lately, inside or out. I didn't think anyone else could see me that way, either.

I saw him yesterday. We had coffee. I still don't know how I feel about it. It felt like it always does. I bit of nervousness, but still at home. Comfortable. Even though it's been a few months since we last saw one another. And a few years since our last kiss. He told me his girlfriend was upset that he was seeing me. Why would he tell me that? The things he says, sometimes. "You've got quite a set of eyes." No one else can understand the depth of that statement, and that only makes it worse. It's not a longing I feel. It's almost a dread. The dread of knowing it will always be him, despite my best efforts. Despite the fact that I'd like to have the choice of someone else. It always comes back to him, and that terrifies me. Ultimately, because I wonder if there are other me's. If I've just diluted myself into thinking I'm the only one he talks to this way, that these things only mean so much to me, they are just his passing comments. It would be so sad and pathetic. I'm not waiting around, but it always looms.

maybe

maybe i'm tired of being a responsible, balanced, reasonable person.

today it was stronger

That urge to get out, today it was worse. I wanted to just walk off campus, into an airport, and onto a plane. Then I wanted to land somewhere, preferably somewhere with mild weather, and walk out of my body and into a new one.

Today, in my business writing class, which I hate, my professor reminded us of our assignment to find someone in a job we hope to one day have, and interview them. I stayed after class to ask him what to do if you have no idea what you want to do, because more and more, I'm realizing I really don't. He said, "Okay, what are you passionate about?" I said, "I don't know. I'm mediocre at a bunch of stuff and really good at nothing." He said, "I didn't ask what you were good at, I asked what you were passionate about." I told him I didn't know. I wasn't being difficult, I was being honest. He asked what I did on my off time. I said I liked to hang out with my friends. He asked what we did, I said we talked. He rattled off a couple of unappealing careers. He couldn't really come up with anything, told me to think about it and we'd talk again on Friday.

I went to the bathroom and cried. This is not anything new. This isn't something I haven't spent some serious time thinking about. I took a goddamn class on figuring out what you want to do with your life, and I'm still in this position. Lately, I've been thinking I'd be cool with working at a grocery store, honestly. Just scanning up groceries somewhere nice, like central or northern California, and then riding my bike, reading books, taking walks, hiking, going to the ocean when I'm off. That sounds divine.

I sort of feel like I don't really want people in my life. This is weird for me because for a while, my only passion I could identify was a passion for people, for loving them. I just feel I've been drained and now I don't know what to do with myself.

I certainly wouldn't quit school. I've only got the rest of this semester and one more year before graduation, and I'm in excellent academic standing. Though I have a feeling my 4.0 will wane this semester... I just can't bring myself to care as much anymore.

I had a passion for learning, before, but I finally broke down and started taking some "practical" classes (ie business classes) and I just can't give a fuck. I'm looking into study abroad next semester, but I have a feeling I'll be rejected as a senior. They'll likely tell me that I can't take the classes I need to graduate, while abroad.

I just feel horribly stuck.

Sometimes, I'll be sitting at my desk, reading random articles or checking my email, and just feel this intense need to get out. Like there is nothing more important than getting away from everyone I know and everything I know. It's not that I dislike my life, but I am admittedly bored.

It's my junior year in college and I'm realizing that I took too long to choose a major. In the beginning, it's that I thought everything would just "fall into place." I realize I'm far too idealistic for my own good, but it's one of those things you feel better off being even if it's not very practical. By sophomore year, I realized I needed to really start making decisions. And I tried. But goddamnit, I just couldn't come to any solid conclusions. I even took a class to figure out what I'd be good at, what would be my best fit. I finally decided on a major and felt confident in it, but recently I've been realizing it's not all I thought it'd be, but now, second semester of Junior year, I'm essentially stuck with it.

I used to believe I could be happy doing anything, as long as I had a fulfilling life outside of work. This may be partially true still, but I don't WANT that anymore, it's not enough. I want to like what I'm doing, at least a little. I guess what it boils down to, is I don't want to be part of the problem, the infamous, vague problem that affects every unfulfilled person in the world.

I need out. I wish there was some way of temporarily cutting off communication with everyone you know, without hurting anyone's feelings. But nothing important is ever easy.