Underperforming Since 1985

My addition to the Internet is well-documented.  I can’t go more than a few hours without checking my email, my google reader, the top headlines on Jezebel.com.  I can give or take a TV in my living space, but that’s because I use my computer for almost everything there is.  It’s my entertainment source, my preferred method of communication, my news source, the way that I prep for classes.

That being said, my addiction has its drawbacks.  The immediacy of the Internet allows for a great deal of idiocy from its users, myself (often) included.  Social networking sites allow users to post their statuses at the drop of a hat, mini-blogs like Twitter allow people to post their musings in 140 characters or less, people use blogs like this one to write post after post of navel-gazing pseudo-intellectual crap.

Crap that they might regret at a later date, when they’ve sobered up, calmed down, re-examined the situation in the harsh light of day.

It tends to be my biggest regret in life.  Posting my most secret thoughts on the Internet is something I’ve been guilty of since I was sixteen years old and was dealing with the absolute pain of high school.  When you’re a sixteen-year-old girl, life is absolutely excruciating.  To be honest, it’s alarming that at 24, my outlook isn’t that different.

So I’m sitting here, listening to sad bastard music, my cell phone within arm’s reach for a phone call that was supposed to come over 20 minutes ago but in all probability won’t arrive at all, feeling the melancholic strings of nostalgia pull at my heart.

Christ.  Did I really just write “feeling the melancholic strings of nostalgia pull at my heart?”  I’m losing what little grip I have left.

Driving home tonight, after hanging up unsatisfied with how my conversation had ended with The Boy (who is out with friends and not me and who referred to me as “a friend” when someone at the house party he’s at asked who he was on the phone with), I willed myself not to cry because I’ve been doing too much of it lately and it doesn’t do me any good and then I turned up the music in my car really loud and I sang-shouted the lyrics to a sad song and it made me feel better and powerful if even for a moment because most of the time I feel like everything is so far out of my control and then I started thinking about whether I’m happy at all with how things are in general and how sad I am about the uncertainty of where my life is headed and also about how I feel like this relationship that I’m in yes I am in a relationship is at a standstill because he won’t acquiese to what was a lighthearted gesture that didn’t mean what he thought it meant and if I really admit it to myself, it still stings and then I started thinking about other nights when I would drive around in the dark and listen to music and think thoughts that I thought were so deep but were really shallow and are still shallow and I’m so SICK of thinking about The Boy and boys in general and then I randomly thought about the original BOY and I wondered if he ever thought about me and

my mind flashed back to this random night early in our relationship where we went to a show of a friend of his and we sat outside while the band loaded up their stuff afterwards and I remember sitting in the chill night air while He smoked an illicit cigarette and sulked about something but I can’t remember what it was.

I wish I remember more about certain things.  My mind used to be so sharp, and even the most insignificant details stuck in my mind and I so confidently boasted that I had a photographic memory and I never forgot anything but now things are slipping away and I

can’t

hold on to them.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning.