Please don't read this, I just convinced/promised myself that actually sending it to you would make existence quantifiably more interesting.

I think it was junior year specifically, because that was my least "fulfilling" year- I had debate, band, all of those ap classes, even symphony in the morning; I was very tired, unhappy and felt like I didn't "want to keep doing" what I was doing. But in high school generally, I have the memory that I would tell myself that the only reason I was going to school was because maybe I'd get to see you.

I'm "pretty sure" there were some mornings where I'd forget to say something like, "Maybe you'll get to see him today!" and I would just go to school without any real reason, and maybe that's why I've so convinced myself it was a lie. I remember thinking, "You know, I woke up every morning with the hopes of seeing you" because it was always in the context of a fantasy; I was telling you, sometime in the future in a well-decorated apartment; or I was just telling a friend; or maybe I was writing it in my memoirs. I think I mostly "just had the thought" of getting out of bed only with the hopes of seeing you, I don't really remember experiencing reluctance at waking up transform into enthusiasm because I thought of maybe running into you in the halls. Maybe once.

I feel confused. I wanted to write this because I felt so empty and worthless, meaningless, the universe felt so arbitrary and it was 8 am and I was crawling into bed, defeated, and just let my mind wander. I remember thinking, "These thoughts are interesting", although I don't remember what thoughts prompted that thought. Eventually I was thinking about, although I didn't label it at the time, back when my life wasn't as consumed with detachment and meaninglessness. This era, loosely defined from 7th grade until my spring semester freshman year, was contextualized by specific romantic urges. There was always someone I'd think "endlessly" of.

And it was mostly a secret, until it wasn't. But still I tried not to talk about it because even now I think of how embarrassed I am. I'm so humiliated, in nearly every interaction I have, at the thought of mentioning any attraction I've ever had. Even now I'm afraid to type the word "obsession" which is what I think it really was (and is), and as I'm writing this message I'm convincing myself that having a "romantic obsession" is really what gave my life "meaning" in this era loosely defined from 7th grade until my spring semester freshman year.

And isn't that interesting?

Cognitive Dissonance

'I "should" be falling asleep.' I try to think sarcastically, but really I'm terrified of when obligations will want me to wake up and I won't believe in them. I never believe them (I seldom believe them). Sleeping Garrison always thinks it's some sort of exaggeration and everything just needs to "take a step back" or "chill out" or something. I like Sleeping Garrison a little bit better than the Garrison that's afraid that he's not going to sleep. That one is me. I like the me that isn't me more than the me that is me. Me=person typing. Or it can mean Garrison. I don't know if "or" is the right word. I don't know if any of those words were the ones I meant. Probably both. I feel like I just keep typing words and regretting them a little right before they finish. And then a whole lot more when the sentence is done. Like when I'm typing the words I think, "Yes, you're getting somewhere. Just keep trying and these small failures will add up to a Success". When that doesn't happen, I pause sadly; I think I just keep hoping it'll happen eventually. Like at the paragraph. But I think I'm done now. "Fuck."

I wanted to write about why I want to email Tao Lin. I want to email him something like,

I want to hide in your bed, and I want you to be comforted by that when you see my body under the quilt my grandmother and I made and it was the only thing I had with me when you picked me up at the airport.

But when I think that, I think "at best", he would maybe just email me back something interesting and maybe send me some interesting things. It would, if everything went "according to 'plan'", be "just another relationship" that doesn't include touching. I think that caressing someone's (my) cheek is a very good thing to happen. Once Branden cried, but he was lying on top of me so all of his tears fell on my face. It felt warm. I should have been crying, or, I think he would have been comforted if I was crying, too. I think even I wanted to cry, but wasn't. Not as much as he was anyway. But I felt relieved because his tears kept falling on my face and he would rub his face on mine so both of our faces were smeared with tears and maybe some of them were mine.

I told that story because I want someone's tears on my face. But I don't get that. So I send a lot of text messages and read Tao Lin's blog and John Campbell's webcomic and I listen to music. When I'm falling asleep, or sometimes while I'm in the process of reading or listening, I think about emailing these people and "endearingly" requesting of them to take me with them into their lives. To let me sleep in their beds and maybe help with the cleaning. I'm entirely convinced that if someone would just cry tears onto my cheeks when I wanted to cry, but wasn't really, but was comforted when the tears would smear "evenly" on both of our faces, I would be satisfied with "life" and everything.

I think that's what I wanted to say.

But I just remembered that it isn't.

I wanted to mention that I'm trying to get Branden to fulfill all of my "desires" for "social interaction". But he's "long-distance", and sometimes I don't have very good service. And I don't know where to go from there. So I pretend like "celebrities" will fill in the gaps.