April 9–13, 2003 — Running in circles

I’ve returned to my old habits, spending hours in front of the computer without actually doing anything. Admittedly, trying to cut down on my computer use was a resolution destined for failure, but I’m still disappointed.

Months ago, I told Amy that I was thinking about making another resolution, one to get through the entire year without being in a relationship or allowing physical contact any more intimate than sitting beside someone on a crowded bus. I’ve had little difficulty keeping this resolution so far, but I am still thinking of it as an unofficial one: Optimism is limiting my resolve, and I tell myself that I don’t want to be self-destructive, that I shouldn’t rule out what might be the normal and healthy relationship I still haven’t had. (I am surprised I haven’t written off those possibilities and announced a permanent boycott of human relationships, but here we are.)

To be honest, though, I’m probably just lying or making excuses for the fact that I can’t be with the girls I want and am too shallow and empty to like the girls that I could be with.

(I forget when I stopped caring if what I write here is honest or not. I don’t know if it matters anymore, though.)

There was a party at Jeff and Amy’s tonight, a surprise party for Jeff’s birthday. I felt out of place and awkward, even around people that I don’t think are annoyed with me.

Nathan said he was trying to get drunk enough to fight me, and Marika sat through my rants about grammar. Then someone took my jacket without asking and wore it outside while smoking. I found it later with an empty pack of cigarettes in the pocket; it had an impotence warning (the one with a picture of a limp cigarette) on the front. All the warnings should just say, “Keep smoking, we want you to die,” I think.

That night I decided to stop telling people secrets; it never works out for me.

I am losing touch with reality. I can’t remember which of the stories I’ve told is true or why I am unhappy. I have lied to a lot of people this month about almost everything, and I have too many faces to wear. It’s not very hard most of the time because most of the faces are depressed-looking, so I just have to focus legitimate reasons for feeling depressed into the lies. This has made me a bit neurotic, though, and even when I want to be happy around someone, when I don’t want them to think talking to them makes me unhappy, I can’t do it.

I knew this couldn’t be as easy as I hoped it would be.