Yesterday at lunch, as I was leaving the eating establishment with my brown paper sack filled with a wonderful sandwich and a small bag of chips (barbecue), I decided to eat outside since the sun had come out and there was no one sitting at the tables on the sidewalk. Just as I pulled out my chair, I heard someone call my name. I turned to find someone I hadn't spoken to in months. Someone with whom my last words were not friendly. We began chatting and he sat down with me while I ate. Or attempted to eat.
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This person produces piles and piles of stress in my brain. I begin to freak out and remember all the things that have happened between us and between our friends in the past. I hear a loud sucking sound as my will to live drains from my body.
This, in addition to recent other dramas involving another of the male species, is too much for my mind to handle. I shut down. I stop eating. I endure the rest of the conversation. I let him walk me to the corner near my office. I let him hug me. I swallow the lump in my throat. I go back to work and I cry. It takes me nearly two hours to finish my lunch.
And today I feel drained.
This post really has no point.
Here's some good news though: I've almost decided what to do with my life. You know, at the ripe old age of 26. I figure by my birthday (in two months), I'll have goals and everything.
"When I write, I feel like an armless, legless man with a crayon in his mouth." - Kurt Vonnegut