Just “trying to be funny” because you hate doing your homework. Just “intentionally” drifting off into discordance (a.k.a., your only friend), because you’re not a professional singer. Kind of like (but not really) Celeste in Jesse & Celeste Forever —always wanting to be right, which sucks the room out of letting people learn from their mistakes.
Except I’m the one that has a hard time learning, accepting and keeping a grasp on being a person. The perfectionist takes over. I’ve worked against sleep while blind to the fact that the job was already taken care of… (Whoops.)
(And Jesse & Celeste Forever is a good movie—totally recommend it.)
“So I choose the easy path: the one I’m used to. That is what prolongs denial—routine.”
But for a perfectionist in denial, until giving in you keep trying to correct and add things that are “important,” while the physical you deteriorates. (I wasn’t kidding when I called myself “Near-Homeless Man.” I haven’t showered in ages. —Whoops.)
The Dead Endz
—a theoretical boy band
Two or so weeks ago (if you haven’t already stopped reading in disgust), at the USM Glickman library in [somewhere], some girl in a typical group of teens said, “Hi.” I was about to open the front door to the hallway (where the library is immediately on the right).
I am not the kind of person that usually responds to such gestures. I don’t even think I should be there. I instead take it that I shouldn’t acknowledge the gesture given the combination; it took The Paper Boy for me to hear that I’m a “sexually repressed ‘adult’ male” for the first time, since receiving guidance was not manageable. (Whoops.)
Ultimately, I need to be around people my age. But my world doesn’t allow that. I don’t “act my age,” work-experience-wise, and the fact that I am a pre-adult with no Star Wars posters (gasp!) or bongs or other drug paraphernalia, and haven’t ever done any drugs…
“Some laws are meant to be broken.”
— I. M. Stupid (1991–2012)
…and that I don’t treat women like they’re disposable toys, and instead do open the door for them (if they’re not too many metres away)… I don’t fit the archetype of the pre-adult. So I guess I may just not have any peers. 😦 (Whoops.)
It doesn’t quite help that I hate my last resort: Facebook. And that I hate Facebook. Did I mention that I hate Facebook? No, I don’t think I told you that I hate Facebook.
And it doesn’t exactly help my Existence Disorder moving “a thousand miles a minute in my head” for the “crux” part of this post, which was about how my belief of absolute, eternal aloneness is intellectually driven, was…removed. (Whoops.)
“There are things I must do in order to maintain my being, versus… identity theft.”
“Darn you, soshul meedea!”
—a crocodile in Pearls Before Swine