So, I'm depressed. Just to get that out of the way, you know, so you'll know that the tone of my words is a little bitter and a little angry and a little sad, you know, depressed. Why do I have to be who I am? I mean, really, I have so many Good influences in my life that would help me along the path of assholishness. And what do I do? Remain mostly aloof, spurning their Wise teachings in favor of being a goody goody, caring about others, etc. I hate it; it's the reason I'm fucking depressed right now. I go out, I have a good time at tango, Dina even showed up and was, well, fun isn't the right word, but entertaining would work I suppose. And one of the people who I would Like to be friends with (most people I interact with, even the ones that I might know their life story, are merely acquaintences), and with whom I was dancing, suddenly stopped smiling, stopped looking at me, in general stopped having fun. I tried to engage her in conversation, mild jokes; I got nothing. At the end of the song, she had to go to the bathroom. "Oh," I tell myself, "that was it." No, it wasn't, she still was sitting without smiling the rest of the evening (as long as I was there, anyway). I asked if she was ok, of course she's good, fine, great. She's always sarcastic. What do I know? Nothing! I know nothing! and because I'm the type who freakin' cares, I want to know what the matter is, so I can either help or sympathize or at least not make it worse. And what does she do, like a typical girl? She keeps it to herself, blank-faces me, stops talking, becomes not even someone else just a no one, nothing. It drives me insane. I wonder if it's my fault. Amy says that when she stops smiling, it's usually because she's tired, or her feet hurt, not because of anything the guy did. But there are still those big questions hanging in the air over my head, "Did I do something? Was her night ruined because of me? Was there something I could have done and didn't?" And will I know? Not for a week, if then! Will I forget about it? Knowing me, not bloody likely! [sighs and stamps his feet] Why can't people just talk about things? It's not like she's important in my life. It's not like we're friends (I honestly barely know anything about her beyond her name). I just freakin' care, more than I need to and more than I ought to, and it bothers me intensely that people can't recognize that and try to make little concessions like assuring me I'm not doing anything wrong and no I can't do anything to help. I mean, last night, I could tell someone wasn't great, and I asked, and she said she didn't want to talk about it, so I said ok, and we had fun dancing, and I think I took her mind off it a little. And that was good. And this now sucks. And I shouldn't let it bother me, but I do. And it's late, and my sleep cycle is off, so I'm more prone to pissiness, and I don't know, blogger. I just want things to make sense. I'm a guy, just a stupid guy. I don't understand things all the time. It might be my fault, and I worry that it might be my fault, and then when I finally realize it's not my fault, that there's no possible way it could have been my fault, then I'm angry because I spent so much time worrying and feeling guilty about something that I should never have had to worry about in the first place, but someone just was too self-centered to realize I needed to be told before or during and not way way after. I'm tired, blogger. I'll talk to you laters. Hopefully I'll feel better.
David