I’ve become quite irritable in the past two-and-a-half months. I’m just putting it out there. Today, I think, I really realized it, though. I was in French class. We were doing a group game where we had to fill out a worksheet as quickly as we could, raise our hands, and if it was right, receive a prize. Because I would consider myself naturally gifted with the language, I always drag my group to first place. This time, however, my group was slower than usual. I had to stop and explain things longer. Not only that, but I was actually explaining it wrong. It was a minor error, but enough to hold us back. When third prize was given away, my group members tried to be all motivated.
“Aw, third prize is gone! Come on guys, we can do this!”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s just a game. We’ll all be dead in a hundred years.”
Everyone in my group sort of gave me weird looks. I then had an “oh, that was a little over-the-top” moment. One of my group members was a guy who’d gone to middle school with me and acted as a spy for the Infamous James (once again, read the post from October 3rd), telling my tormentor of everything I did in class. Today, he silently chuckled at me from across the table.
This is exactly what he–what they–wanted for me. I’ve gone and become it.
And, on a side note, I feel a little bad that I’ve pushed everyone away. My reasoning is that I am so sick of feeling sad when I’m unable to receive love like a normal human being. I don’t want to feel the pain of knowing I’m loved, but never feeling it. Ever. So I’ve done my best to isolate myself from it altogether. I’m sorry.
This was a really poorly written post, but who gives a shit? Certainly not me.
The end. Post over. Drive home safely.