Why I am so afraid to be by myself is bemusing.

I tried it today, for the first time in a long while.  I woke up, and clocked in a staff meeting from 8am-10am, which was painful, because I’ve been walking on a mosquitoes bite at the tip of my toe all day.  And after dealing with some emotional stuff – some unnecessarily emotional stuff, like oh God, why am I still at the same job, and everyone keeps giving me looks like they’re asking the same thing – it’s been six years, and I haven’t even tried to get promoted, using school as an excuse.  Why didn’t I lie, and work fulltime this summer and not tell them I was returning to school?  Oh right, because I’m honest, and gullible, and because if I hadn’t, I’m not sure Lauren and I would have had the greatest summer of Sruti’s life.  So I clocked in that shift, and then I carried my laptop, and bags of books over to my local, favourite café, and sit there for a while – thinking.  And what am I thinking? 

I am thinking, that this day hasn’t been funny enough.  It has been very serious, with many serious thoughts, and I have not laughed at one weird thing.  I have migrated from this café, to one where wi-fi functioned preferably, and I sat, and spent 16 dollars on lunch, a salad, and tea – 16 unnecessary dollars I do not have to spend, and bought two sandals for 10 dollars – another deal!  Of which, I still don’t have to spend.  And I aspire for great things, I assure you.  I assure myself everyday, anyways.  And online, Kevin says I’m a talented writer, and I should write more, my emotions are so alive on the pages – because I am an emotional person.  The café is sound tracked by a very typical indie-rock-ambient-fucking deep ipod playlist, which is seriously fucking me over, because there’s nothing I hate more than feeling like I’m in an indie movie.  That is like walking into an existential gateway, with every intent.  What idiot would consciously choose to question their existence, by secluding themselves in a room that highlights the little moments?  Fuck indie films.  (Not independent, I support independent films, local films, you should too – I mean, you know what I mean, Christ.) 

Why am I mad?

Even if Lauren was around, I’d be doing nothing with her all day regardless.  What difference is it, if I do nothing by myself or with someone?

Because you engage in dialogue when you are with someone, so it feels more productive.

I never let anyone else get a word in, anyways, so that’s a load of shit.

I miss Stephens.

I wonder if he knows.

This is the part where he’d say, “I’m not stupid” and my whole body would release in the tension that arises from the presumption that I actually have control over my life and it’s characters and the way they perceive and or care for me.  

And and and and and.  Leave one thing alone for once, Sruti.

I had a really great day.  I wrote, and read, and ate and sipped on delicious things.  And I bought two cute sandals for 10 dollars.  And the bite is healing, and unlike most of the people on this island, I love this heat.  And my fake boyfriend texted me back with genuine concern for the activities of my life, so maybe even genuine concern for me.  I understand completely.  It’s hard to be concerned for someone, when you’re so young, you repress your budding concerns for yourself. 

Also, I like that he thinks I don’t need him.