sometimes, it is me

when i’m cold, selfish, manipulative and distant. when you call and i don’t pick up. when you text and i am too lazy to recharge. when you text, i see it and it causes a genuine smile to creep into my face but i forget to reply for days.

when you say something, and i forget to empathise until it strikes me that holycrap, what you went through was real. but it’s too late then. the moment has passed and you were miserable and i didn’t do anything but act like a scornful idiot.

when you say something but my mind is somewhere else. 

when you say something but i don’t get there yet.

when i say i miss you but you think i don’t mean it because i didn’t show it then. i didn’t show it then.

when i stare at the part of the wall opposite where i’m sitting, thinking i should say hi, i should ask her if she’s okay, i wonder where he went, i wonder if she’s okay, what she did was amazing that day, i care more than she thinks i do… but i don’t get out of bed. i’m staring at that point of the wall, thinking. i don’t show it then. i forget to show it later.

who do you blame for that? the phone? the text message plan? the duckling in the pond? it is me. of course it’s me.

all the world’s a stage and i’m in a rut

Imaginary interviewer: How does it feel to be in a rut?

It feels stupid, that’s how it feels. Half the things you found fun just a while ago seem hopeless. You seem to have grown out of it (harry potter, skins, chocolate, happiness). And you waste twenty gigabytes worth downloading space to come to that original conclusion.

Worse, all you seem to do is lounge around staring at stuff: whether it’s laptop screens, books you painstakingly borrowed so that your break would be interesting or your phone, analysing people’s statuses and display pictures to death.

And then there’s the things you actually need to do… phone calls you vowed to make or posts you told yourself you’d write but those things feel so difficult.

You stare at your phone for hours… fiddling through random Apps but you cannot bring yourself to dial a number. Or catch up with that old friend who you fed the “we should meet up” line to. Or make a career-benefiting enquiry. That feels like a disproportionate amount of effort.

You feel tired all the time… because all you do is lounge around and make plans in your head… or step out of the house only to feel glad when you’re back until you realise you’re back to square one… and wonder what you did last year that was so darn entertaining because you cannot come up with anything right now.

Every night, you tell yourself the next day is going to be so much better. You make a schedule for yourself in your head, check because your horoscope suddenly dictates your life (since nothing else does)… and bam, nothing happens.

The sun rises in the east and you’re still in this nonsensical rut.