My Stupid Blog

Fall Feelings

Every time I go for a walk lately, I spend the entire time reminiscing.
I really have no idea how to separate the good memories from the bad ones, because both were irrevocably tied together. I think about fun things I did followed by the worst thing that's ever happened to me one memory later. My mood constantly fluctuates between a sense of fond nostalgia and a completely unquenchable fury. It's as if two people exist in my head simultaneously-
a bright-eyed optimist obsessed with the good moments in life, and a borderline psychopathic manifestation of violent thoughts that rip me away mentally from whatever I happen to be doing at the time.
One moment, I'm enjoying the coolness in the air as the season shifts, thinking about the old cafe in my hometown that I would visit when the weather finally cooled down. I remember cheap drip coffee mixed with cinnamon and simple syrup, and sitting outside under the stores overhang. Seeing people I knew ride by on bicycles or stop in, saying "hello" to them as if knowing everyone everywhere was a completely normal thing to do. I always felt so, so, so proud of myself every time I would see someone I recognized pass by. I would feel so good waving to them and seeing them wave back at me. It was such a simple thing, back then. And now? I don't even make eye contact with my apartments neighbors.
I don't even think I'm shy or socially awkward. I'm just totally incapable of being there, mentally. I'm always somewhere else. I feel like the people around me can tell how totally disinterested I am in them, and can feel the insincerity when I struggle to interact with them on a meaningful level. I float in and out of conversations, and people always notice. I can't even imagine what my face looks like when this happens, but it must be completely obvious.
So what do I look like to strangers when I'm having dark thoughts in public? Does my face change? On the worst days, I'd honestly rather stay inside than worry about how strangers perceive me when I'm a million miles away, lost in some fucked-up memory that hits me at random. "Go see a therapist" yeah, yeah. But I don't think I'm allowed to say what I really think to someone else, let alone someone who is required by law to report certain things I might say.
I don't want to worry about dealing with the fallout from that. It's embarrassing to even think about.
I remember biking past my friends houses and knocking on their doors without even texting first to see if they wanted to hang out. They'd say "Hell yeah" and we'd find something to do. Cook dinner, bike to a bar, get takeout, watch a movie. In my head I'm like a child in an adults body, going up to the other kids at the playground and asking them if they wanna be my friend. It was so easy to do, and so easy to see it reciprocated.
In retrospect, though, all my friends were guys, and practically every guy I thought I was friends with was just some dude patiently waiting for his opportunity to fuck me. Classic! I guess there's a reason it's a universal meme. Still, I miss them, although I would obviously never admit that to them. I think I'm resigned to telling them to fuck off and die forever, even if I don't actually mean it. I think about all the times I felt sadness, and fondness, and regret when my friendships fell through. I also remember pushing past those feelings to say the most utterly inhuman shit I could possibly say to them in response, in order to get them to leave me alone forever.
It was easier to be vicious than to actually sit with my sadness and confront the idea of simply being okay with disappointment.
Just saying "Well, that's okay", and really, sincerely believing it.
I know this is all over the place, but I can't stop thinking about all these fragmented feelings I've been having while I'm home alone.
I feel as though everything is okay as long as I stay busy. It's the silence that's totally unbearable to me when things get as bad as they have lately. I can manifest whatever happy facade I need to just to make the day go by faster, and cement the positive image other people have of me long enough to survive the night. But sometimes it feels as if none of it is real, not at all. That I'm kind of just this automaton that's slowly walking through town every day with an expression painted on it. I don't always feel this way, but sometimes I do. Sometimes I completely forget that I've ever felt this way at all, and get through an entire day before I'm hit with some intrusive thought that rips me away from what felt like sincerity, for once.
I'm not suicidal or anything, I'm just kind of a vessel. I distract myself with silly things that don't involve another person, and sit in daydreams fueled by fantasy. I think the most satisfying accomplishment I ever have lately is actually becoming fully-engrossed in something without interruption, be it from some fucked memory or being dragged away by someone needing my attention.
I think there are two very different people in my head, simultaneously, and they're utterly distinct from one-another.
There's the person I am to other people, and the person I actually am. And the person I actually am is a vortex of conflicting thoughts and feelings. I think everyone is probably like that, but I don't think other people feel as much of a fluctation within themselves of who they actually are and what they actually care about.
I don't know, man. This was all over the place. I feel better, I'm going to go take a shower and read.