The Hollow kind of Lonely

I think I might have ruined things today… not like it costs me anything to try here, unlike a real therapist. I think everything I was going to ruin was ruined anyway, so I might as well.

This coffee is terrible. I stole it from a hotel. What is this universal rule that all hotels must have the most wretched coffee, despite what the packaging says the brand is. Does someone have to specially negotiate with Starbucks to say hey, people love your coffee, but hear me out – can you make some that absolutely sucks, that people will hate?

I was in a hotel yesterday, depending, I’ll be in one tomorrow… I lied to one dude and said that I wasn’t going to see anyone, in hopes that he would give me money. I hate that fucker.

I just realized that this is as close as I’ve gotten to ever talking about work, and I’m 50/50 thinking that that’s ok.

Or maybe that’s where this has to go today.

I (am using the pronoun I, and retreating from that direct attack) woke up this morning, just a little later than I should have, and even said my affirmations upon first waking. I had had some excellent dreams, I couldn’t figure out the point of them, but I thought that I was ready to record them nonetheless.

I might want to, maybe that’s the best way to salvage the day. At least a little bit of that.

We (we’ll get to we) were entering into a grocery store, preparing to buy ingredients for a party later that night. I’m mentally looking around my group and trying to figure out who was there – I couldn’t name any of them by name, but I felt them by type, as I suppose is usual for every party crowd.

I don’t know why, but like I always do, I offered up my resources and was thoroughly ignored.

I just clicked away to see if I could find my best friend, who I have not called in a year, and whose number I lost 2 phones ago. I miss her terribly. But she never calls me.

Fuck, I should just let people ignore me. I’ve actually tried to write that sentence a number of times, like even I am speaking over myself.

Like, why are we at the liquor store when I have free booze? Why are you asking someone else to crash on their couch when I have a spare bedroom with it’s own full setup? Why are you asking for a ride when I already live downtown? Ok assholes, whatever. Obviously you’d rather pay money than deal with me, I can relate.

But then here’s the rub – why am I so hurt about this? Why do I desperately want to show myself as useful to people that don’t give a damn about me, and if I’m hard pressed to say it (ok, that was definitely not a hard press) I don’t give a damn about either?

I feel like I’ve struck the gold of the day, but there’s still coffee here. I want to go chase down my real friends, but are they my real friends? I mean, they’d be calling, wouldn’t they? Ever, over years? Am I really that hard to find?

Then there’s the shame. Yes, I am. I have no amazing anything really that would come up in a google search. I hid everything because I thought it wasn’t good enough, and now there is nothing.

Now there is suddenly not enough coffee here. And that’s fine too.

I think I want to do real work today.

All my friends are on LinkedIn.

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