I've lost track of things. I'm not sure what's important and what isn't.

I don't know what I want. Or who I want. Or why I want them.

I'm still hesitant to write because I feel like everything has been said before. What is wrong with me? I knew that before and I still wrote. Why am I not inspired though? I'll read beautiful prose somewhere and just be jealous I didn't write that myself. It doesn't make much sense, seeing that I don't write anything. At all.

I don't want to write my own life down because I know how it would pan out. I know that it would knock logic and good sense into me, but sometimes, I just don't want logic or good sense. I like the fantasy of everything. That everything's okay and it'll all magically slip back to how it was, all fresh and new.

I know it won't. But I want it to.

I wonder if he's realizing it. Does he see me pulling away? Or is he so oblivious to my nature that he thinks everything is fine?

It's fruitless. And tired. And lonesome.

I've been so busy lately that I've started to get lonesome because I realize have very little semblance of being social. And I'm a social person. This is hard. It's strange, because when I do talk to people, I feel like I'm suddenly autistic. Where I used to meet eyes with a confident gaze while I spoke, my eyes wander up and around the face. Not because I'm intimidated, but because I realize I have so little to actually say. What do I say in response to "What have you been doing?" or "Update me on your life"?

Usually it starts with a sigh, then "Oh. I'm busy. School. Work. Music."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm busy. But I enjoy everything I do, so that's good." *awkwardly looks around and glances at feet*

I've forgotten how to talk to people. I know how to exchanges cues across a quartet and when to smile across the orchestra. I know how to deliver a speech and persuade an audience. I know how to write second species counterpoint. I know how to keep my irritated thoughts to myself when I'm around freshman. I know how to talk to classmates about due dates. I know how to ask for an extension on my credit card payment.

But hell if I know how to talk about my life.

What I would like is to not be sitting in my room, alone, on a Saturday night. But I don't know if I want to be with anyone either. I don't know if I want to be held - I don't ever know if I want anyone touching me, even if my whole body aches right now. I don't know if I want a drink. I don't know if I want to soak in a tub. I don't know if I want to watch a movie. I don't know what to do with myself.

So, I think that what I'll do is just listen to the Avett Brothers until I fall asleep. Hopefully I'll wake up with a brighter outlook. I get tired of being pessimistic.

I've been hearing "I love you" a lot lately, from what seems like a lot of men.

I'm a bit surprised by the ones spoken at random, when it's not sincere. When I shoot pool and somehow make a difficult shot and he exclaims, "Ohhhhh! That's my girl! I love you!" Or when he closes the practice room door while turning out the lights, then blocks the window with his body and after I push the door open he says, "I only do it cause I love you." I'm only surprised by it because I don't throw those words around.

Then there are the supposedly sincere ones. The ones through texts that I refuse to take seriously. The ones spoken when I'm at my wits' end. The ones that make me breathe easy because chances are that in that moment, it's exactly what I want to hear. I've somehow learned how to get momentary validation without directly stating: "I need to hear I'm beautiful and loved". It's difficult to describe where I am with this whole thing. Part of me is so far detached from it all that I don't care if I hear it at all because I'm not entirely sure it's true. But the other part of me just likes hearing it. I like those words. I love those words.

And the sincere one. The one I wanted to hear so badly years and years ago, simply stated: "I'm going to miss you. I can truly say that I love you and I'm glad that you are a part of my life." I haven't processed it. Right now it's just sitting there out in the open - floating around between reality and couldawouldashoulda. It's not a statement of eternal commitment or even romantic love as far as I know, but just the fact that I never heard it from him when I wanted to is enough to make me sigh.

Oh, life....