Longpost: Cooler than a regular post.

There’s a stiffness in my whole body today. Nothing wants to move, like it won’t trust me unless I give it nicotine, like in the good old days. Well, fuck you, body, you’re gonna do pushups. How do you like me now? That’s right motherfucker.

My roommate is losing his mind, I think. He’s talking nonsense when I come into the room, ours being the only one with the light on at 2:30 in the morning on a school night. Granted, I’m up just as late as him and everything, but it’s strange. I’ve never been “like the other boys” or whatever, so I’m confused about how they all behave and if this is somehow my fault for not being around very much. Or maybe it’s all in my head and I was tired and everything sounded like nonsense. I’ll give it a few weeks and see if I was right.

I was awake at 9:30 this morning, an hour before my class. Not smoking is an amazing thing. I felt like the king of the world today, earlier, like I could burn a hole in the world just by looking at it the wrong way. I ran up to the apartment, dropped off my laptop and sat about (did some fucking pushups again. God damn am I sick of pushups), then ran to class.

The girl I sort of like from a distance wasn’t in class today, so I didn’t feel any real need to not act like a dick or to be shy. So I was the opposite of shy and probably hurt some feelings or bruised some egos today. Whatever. I was god in that moment, looking down on worms. I was a sociopath for about an hour in the classroom and it was creepily freeing, I felt like I could do whatever I wanted, say what I wanted to say and not worry about other people, because fuck them. It’s not a way I feel very often but it’s becoming more and more appealing the fewer and fewer nicotine parts-per-million remain in my bloodstream.

Day 3 is supposed to be the hardest, then it gets easier from there. Day 3 started about two hours ago. My stomach is too sore to do any more exercises. There are no drinks because there is no car at the apartment right now. I’m not giving up so easily. I’m making TEA. Cause fuck ya’ll, that’s why.

I got a call from Jessica a couple days ago, apparently. She’d left a message when my phone was out of commission over the weekend and I hadn’t checked my mailbox since a few nights before. I was idly checking my voicemail, deleting calls from my sister that I’d already heard the jist of and there it was, like a landmine. If I’d been standing I probably would have needed a place to sit down. I listened to it about four times. I haven’t seen her face in two years. Haven’t heard from her since July or something. Life stopped for a glorious twenty seconds. Message saved.

I’d been wanting to talk, wanting to see how she was for the longest time. I’d convinced myself otherwise during the whole Lauren thing, decided I didn’t need her anymore and that we’d just be adults and go our separate ways (being, in this case, East coast and West coast). Lauren thing pulled a Hindenburg (I could expound, but then this would turn out just like every other fucking blog) and, for a number of reasons I felt like a failure once more. I did some looking back, as one does in these sorts of positions, and realized that I never really felt like a failure with Jessica, before during or after the “end times” of the relationship. Every other girl I’ve dated since I’ve felt like I was horribly and fundamentally flawed in some way that made me impossible to love or to get along with or to relate to. That I’d fucked up. That I was a fuckup. Not with her. She never made me feel worthless. Whenever I’d make myself feel worthless, she’d snap me out of it.

So I’d been feeling worthless for a few months since Lauren and then, all of the sudden, remembered what it was like to feel at peace about myself and a girl at the same time. It’s more complicated than that, but it was like a flash, like getting a cup of cold water thrown over my pathetic, snoring face, and being so completely far gone that I needed three more cups of icewater in the face so I could process it. Her voice was the same. I knew who it was at “Hi Allen, uh”. I remembered, exactly, the shapes her mouth made when she’d say my name. That sounded porny, but it’s not.

It made me sort of wonder about the whole thing, something I’d been trying not to do since the Alex thing last spring. I’ve been pretty weirded out by the whole thing if you couldn’t tell. Not in a particularly bad way, but in a very particular way. Those feelings you can’t really describe with out sounding like a dumbass (a risk I’ve braved quite valiantly in this post, no?).

Whatever, I have some homework I should be doing… Comic soon maybe. I haven’t told anyone I’m updating again. That soon too, maybe.