That awkward moment when you get a text from someone who told you they were deleting your number last time you talked, and they want to know why you never text them. And they have to start the text by clarifying that they are sober.

These are the kind of people I used to associate myself with. Thank God I've moved on with my life.

Maybe you'd be kidnapped by pirates...

So there's this guy.

In high school, he adored me. I thought he was awkward and weird, but cool and a good friend. We talked about music, about school, about my stupid on-and-off boyfriend. We sat on the hood of his car, eating pizza between rehearsals, spinning elaborately strange and hilarious stories. I knew he liked me, and I let him. Meanwhile, I continued to date guys who were no good for me. He was chivalrous and sensitive and giving. I was selfish.

And now here we are, three years removed from that world. We have so many of the same interests, so many of the same opinions. Each discussion entails a detailed analysis of whatever show we're watching that week. Or somehow becomes a critique of society. Or some wild scheme blooms, usually involving world domination. We have fun. He is still the same silly, awkward, caring guy from high school, if a little more grown up. I am still selfish, but less so. Amazingly, he still likes me.

I spent some time trying to convince myself that I only like him because he is the only guy who has shown a genuine interest in me as a person for quite a while. But that's not true; I like him for lots of reasons. And best of all, I like him for who he is and not how he makes me feel.

Here's the crappy part: he lives in North Dakota now. I know he's, at least, good for me and, at most, right for me. Which is why I can't bring myself to start this relationship in a long-distance capacity right now. Most long-distance relationships I've seen have failed and failed horribly. Part of me argues that if it is right, it will not happen this way. But do I really want to risk that? Do I really want to take the chance that I will remember the relationship as a complete failure somewhere down the road? No, not really. But seeing as he will probably not live near me for a long time, at what point will I give in and try it? Will giving this a label be a necessity, anyway? We each know how the other feels. Isn't that enough for now? What would it change, besides my Facebook status? I would like to imagine that it won't change much.

(I can just imagine the reaction of all of our high school friends though. That would be fun in itself.)

I don't know I'm doing or what I'm even talking about sometimes.

Relationships are confusing. Even the good ones.

Well, it's a new month. So here's what new in my life:

...

Yeah, a whole lot of nothing.

It's been all work and school and church and nothing. Except The X-Files. Which I am quite enjoying. Oh and I've begun planning my Halloween costume. Hopefully it will turn out as awesome as I've envisioned. Luckily, I've got the help of a friend who can make me a few pieces that I might not be able to afford otherwise. All in all, I'm more excited for Halloween than anything else at the moment.

Except maybe finally getting my coffee pot from my parent's house.

Sometimes I get really scared that I'm dying.

Not in the "I'm dying a moment at a time" sort of dying. The more immediate and serious kind. I worry about having some sort of horrible disease, living out the rest of my life in pain. I worry so much sometimes that I'll have a minor panic attack and then I'm useless for the rest of the day.

I used to think that because I was so frightened in this way that it meant I did not actually want to die. That wasn't true though. I did not want to be in pain, I did not want to suffer. I simply wanted to cease to exist, like going to sleep for a really long time. I think about death differently now, but the fear still remains.

So I guess this is another thing I have to work on: controlling my anxiety. I'm lucky enough not to spend most of my time in a constant state of stress, but I do have my moments. And usually they are very bad.

It really helps to work it out on here though, I think. I feel like I can think through and explain what's upsetting me freely enough. Like anything else, understanding it can help me beat it.

I think it's pretty sad that I can't talk to a guy without fearing that he has some sort of ulterior motive. I think this speaks volumes about my past experiences. I don't like it one bit.

Of course, I'm not saying all boys only want one thing. But once you've had something happen to you enough times, you just learn to expect it. So this is partly my fault, for letting myself see bad in people even when that bad is not actually there.

But how do I get that trust back? I can't just completely reset my brain. I don't know, I'll work something out.

H is for the Hold Steady. (And also high school.)

Citrus | The Hold Steady

High school was a weird time for me. I had friends, and I suppose people liked me well enough, but I was not popular. Most of my circle of friends were worlds away from me, dabbling in drugs and sex and alcohol. I didn't touch any of it. I wasn't an outsider because of this, but I was the awkward appendage of the group. As much as I wanted to be accepted fully, I couldn't. I worked too much, my parents did not let me go out as often as I liked, I felt shy when it came to those things. But I wasn't perfect, of course, and this made me feel apart from my church friends. I didn't know where I fit.

The thing is, I still don't. I've carved out a little hole for myself in this group of church friends, simultaneously distancing myself from the few that stuck with me through high school. But the fit is awkward, like a pair of jeans that don't sit quite right.

I bring this up right now, under this song, because it reminds me of one of the few places I felt right in. But I guess it was not so much a place as a person and a time when we had no secrets from each other, when we could tell each other anything, talked every single day, without any pretense or awkwardness. It reminds me of when we laughed, back before we learned what the weight of the world really felt like, back when we were really just beginning to learn about ourselves.

The one in which I dwell on dwelling.

I think with depression comes a certain kind of paranoia. (Well, maybe this is just me, I'm not an expert.)

It's like this: Your best friend makes a comment about not wanting to date a guy because he isn't a virgin. She doesn't know about particular things in your past, but you immediately feel if she did, she would drop you.

I know depression is as much biological as it is mental. Biologically, there are certain chemicals that do not work properly or don't get produced enough, or whatever it is, that makes people predisposed to feelings of depression. But mentally, there's the dwelling on things. For me, those things are generally my past. So finding out that something I've done is so undesirable to someone I care about leads me to take this thing I've been dwelling on and bottle it up. Out of fear of them leaving, out of fear of humiliation, out of fear of ridicule, out of fear of damnation. And even if they've never given any inclination that something I may have done in my past is despicable to them, the fears are still there. I was willing to do this and I find it awful. How will they react?! I tell myself.

Sometimes, I seek out people who will excuse the things I've done merely because they have also done them. Which is just probably just as bad for me as feeling pre-judged by my peers because these people also tend to encourage my badness.

So that's the thing I'm struggling with at the moment. It's almost ridiculous because I understand that my friends will love me, even if they don't condone what I do. But it's like my brain doesn't want to get with that. It takes willpower that I don't have right now to overcome those nagging fears.

As of now.

If I could start at the beginning, I would. But frankly, I have no idea where or when this began.

So I'll tell you about right now.

I am going to be 20 in exactly two months.
I go to college, but I use "go" loosely, considering I hardly make it to class and I'm probably failing everything.
I work the customer service counter at a grocery store. I both love and hate my job. I love it for the people I work with (though this number continues to dwindle). I hate it because of creepy dudes, rude customers, and awful upper management.
I am not dating. After being used too many times and being almost suffocated by a relationship, I am too weary to do it anymore. I blame most of the things I've suffered in this area on myself. I am too easy, too eager, to unwilling to maybe hurt someone even though they are killing me. I still hurt sometimes from the past, from things I could have had and things I have done and things that have been done to me. Lately, I've pushed almost everything down deep, except for the hurt. I'm not even angry anymore. I'm just in pain.
I am scared of the dark.
All I want to do is sit around, staring at the internet, with a steady IV of music. Or sleep.
I feel, most days, that I'm not really here. Or maybe like I'll wake up sometime in junior year, realize this was all just a horrible dream and get to make different decisions and have a different life.