The Pursuit of Loneliness

-No Song-

In fifth grade, I recall getting bullied viciously from everything to my skin to my shoe game. Homie that bullied me the most, though? This ugly little boy who was always shorter than me until high school. I remember finally biting back one day along with some of my peers to which a female teacher responded, "Be nice to him. You never know. He might grow up to be a rapper or something making a lot of money." That, dear friends, was the first time I mentally called out an adult on their bullshit as if to say, "Wow. Even they don't have the right answers." And she didn't. The way I always saw things, it wouldn't matter how any of my peers turned out. I certainly wouldn't need anything from them. As I write this, though, I'm terribly uncertain. I know peace of mind (because that's what I'm on a witch hunt for) will shelter me whatever route I take, however I'm afraid my feet are glued to the path I carved into stone when I was a little girl. College, job, book publications, then whatever was next. For all the planning it took, I feel unprepared to walk into the line of fire. No amount of kindness or mercy shown to my peers could have prevented this for me. In the adult world, I am alone. A number among other numbers. I have a bank account number, a number of hours on my paystub, an alphanumeric combination at the DMV, a number for the pump my gas is on, and even a number for the computer I'm using right now. Just a number that begins with my birth: 09/04/1998 and ends with my inevitable death date. Currently, I'm supposed to be doing one of my online college classes. (Number of those: 4, soon to be 5) As fate would have it, my login isn't working, so I decided to make time for my suffering blog. I have approximately fourteen minutes before this library computer shuts down, so this will be quick. My love life doesn't exist anymore. It probably never did, but it definitely isn't there now. I find myself smiling for nothing and everything. There's a guard: I trust no one. I love everybody. I just don't fret anymore. I'm not sure if that's good or not. I find solace in the idea that one day I'm going to pack up and not say a word to anybody, just leave. It's not like I'd be running away from something, just more like toward something else. Something new. Something different. I'm tired. I'm tired of trying to plan. I'm tired of checking my account balance. I'm tired of not knowing when something or someone is going to come into my life, show me something amazing, and stay. I'm tired of the people I know will stay blaming me for not always noticing their presence. Subconsciously, I'm recreating myself into everyone that had an impact on me and vanished. I can't leave myself, right? Somehow I find peace with that. It's like I'm more me than I've ever been because I'm alone, yet I still have all these attributes of people I've loved. I have Your cynicism, yOur painted hands, yoUr vapor, youR jokes, yOur lingo, Your lack of concern, youR fear of trust. I am all of you as I hope in some small way, you're me too.

Drea