Sunday, October 29, 2006

Mad woman in the attic; too stubborn to smoke, too lonley to call.

Sitting upstairs, mad woman in the attic, as they say. I can hear fits of giggles emitting from the three couples downstairs. Feeling slightly ostracized, out of place, 7th wheel. I have what is most likely and irrational fear of social groups. Something about being identified with a distinct group of people makes me uneasy. It sets you up in a place of vulnerability, being able to be pushed out is a possible consequence of being in. I tend to keep my close companions spread out. Space is grand. Also, I think it may be absurd to avoid close friendships for the purpose of not loosing them, but what can one do if a fear is in momentum. I don't want to be judged. I fuck up a lot. Not in a pity-party sort of sense. I fuck up as much or maybe a little bit more than most people. It still makes me panic to think that people can watch me and come to conclusions without asking me about things. Which groups often do. It is the very reason we have this social mechanism called gossip. Which is a conundrum, because I adore gossip. My my, just listen to me justify a very simple thing.

I am sitting in my room pouting because there are people downstairs who used to like me more in yesteryear than they do now.

All I want in this world at this very moment is to chain smoke and talk on the phone, neither of which I can achieve because I have no one to call and I cannot smoke in my room and I sure as hell am not going downstairs to awkwardly try to wedge myself into conversation with people who have been drinking and laughing together all night.

My hair is so snarled I cannot run my fingers through it.

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