I've been getting really overwhelmed by, like...how shitty everyone feels all the time or something. Like, I got sort of upset the other night thinking about "real" moments I've had with other people. Like, there are so few that...they're memorable, you know? I was just thinking about these weird moments I'd had with other people where they were just being "genuine" and it made me feel bad. I thought about the next for however long I continue living, and...how all my interactions would be buried under like layers and layers of self conscious persona and...I don't know.
I started crying randomly while talking to one of my friends last night. We were drinking, and he had just tried to kill himself and I don't even remember what he was saying that would cause me to start crying, but I felt really bad because I didn't want him to think he was doing something bad, you know? Like, because suicidal people already feel like their like...constant abysmal depression is a burden on others, and I didn't want him to feel like...his feelings/presence were making me feel shitty or something. I don't even remember what happened exactly. After that it was fine and we talked about Austin and how it's like a badge of honor there to be like as unattractive and stupid looking as possible, and how I'd slept with this guy that lived there and he once told me, not j/k, like 100% serious, that "Beards have been 'over' in Austin for, like five years," and how, that's maybe the most "retarded" thing I've ever heard, and how, if that was true, he was clearly the only person who had, "gotten the memo." And we like laughed a lot and then I drove home. I don't know.
Sunday, August 18, 2013
"I'm going to write a book called Mr. Bolonley. A children's story about how all the meats in the market hate bologna because only poor people eat it. And then, maybe how, in the end, the other meats learn that bologna is really just a combination of all the meats and so they learn to, like, accept diversity or something."