Once in a while I’ll lose control and have a night that just gets out of hand. Tonight was (still is?) one of those nights. Mind you, there was no alcohol involved. Although perhaps that would have at least provided an excuse for my poor judgment and self-destructive behavior.
6:00 pm: Everything seems to be running smoothly. I eat dinner like a normal person and then head back to my dorm with my roommate. There are no signs of impending doom.
7:00 pm: I am 200% excited for a roller skating event on campus, and happy to get out and be social. Being single doesn’t seem all that bad – I’m going to be just fine.
8:00 pm: I roller skate for the first time since sixth grade. My legs do not remember how to operate on wheels, and I become a danger to the people around me. There are couples holding hands and bracing each other from falling. Must be nice.
9:00 pm: I take off my roller skates and begin a downward spiral into loneliness. This is not unusual – a couple of weeks ago, I cried at Disney World because I was afraid that I would never have anyone to share my favorite place with. If you’re ever single and want to get down on yourself, go sit at a bench in Magic Kingdom and watch all of the little families and honeymooners enjoying the happiest place on earth with their loved ones. I’m not always this negative, but the fear of growing up and having no one to share my life with always seems to hit me at the most inconvenient times.
10:00 pm: I make my roommate come home with me because I am suddenly ready to wrap myself in a cocoon and mope inside of it. In a complete lapse of judgment, I text not just one, but two of my exes, compromising all self-respect. I receive responses from neither, most likely because they both think I am a psychopath. This is probably because I occasionally try to reach out long after any hope of restoring a friendship is dead. This hypothesis is more likely to be true with one than with the other, but I have a feeling that they have both reached the same conclusion to steer absolutely clear of the crazy train. Unfortunately, I am riding the crazy train on a loop. And driving it. And also mining the coal to fuel it. I sort of embody the spirit of Tom Hanks in The Polar Express.
And now, I’m left feeling stupid and rejected and annoying and unwanted. I know this isn’t the case; I’m surrounded by friends and people I love, but I can’t help feeling this way. I knew I shouldn’t have contacted either of them, and I didn’t want to, either. Somehow my choices don’t reflect my own judgment. I haven’t even interacted with one of them since May. I don’t even particularly care if I never hear from him again, and I don’t even know what the point of texting him was. The more recent boy dumped me right before Christmas break and issued a no-contact order until we came back to school, insinuating that we would try to be friends when I moved back, but break has been over for a week and I’ve yet to hear from him. I’m tired of being the only one who wants to reach out, and I don’t think that he realizes how much it bothers me when he doesn’t reach back. The people around me are sick of hearing about it, and I just want someone to knock some sense into me. But not too hard because I probably have a weak bone structure and my nose is already a little crooked.
UPDATE: The boy I didn’t really care about hearing back from responded at 12:43 am and asked, “Are you drinking?” Absolutely not, but apparently that’s what my behavior implied. My self-pride was slightly restored by issuing a rude response.