Seriously though, this is a killer choice. Avengers has always been this big group dynamic thing, which we know he’s brillant at and his Ashtonishing X-Men Comic series was one of the best of modern times.
It is an utterly gorgeous day outside. There are people everywhere. I have a half-dozen people I could call or message and we could hang out right now, ranging from friends to acquaintances. You know what? I’m terrified to. I’m intimidated by all those people out there. I just rammed in my headphones and cranked it up. And then? I ran away from the sunshine, from the smiling crowds. I fled to a computer lab, just so I could commit the wonderfully familiar act of staring at a computer screen. I feel so wretched about it. I like to flaunt my way with people, but I’m a complete liar about it. I never know what to say to people. I just sort of make things up and hope they react in a way that I can say something else moderately clever. That is, until my flipping of the coin runs out and I say the wrong thing. I really have absolutely no idea about how people work. All I ever do is guess, and when I begin to guess wrong, well, then I just bring up that wonderfully interesting pop-culture defense mechanism and talk about movies, or TV or whatever the fuck my particular flavour of the month is.
I can’t really do face to face. It scares me. Has for years. Do you know how many times I’ve freaked out when trying to apply for a job? I come out in cold sweats and start hyperventilating just at the thought of doing that.
And the worst part is I know I’m not the only person this happens to. My little bitch fits aren’t any sort of unique or special. Everyone always feels like this. I feel even worse knowing that I don’t want everyone to be happy because then they’d all be happy and wouldn’t that be nice, I want them all to be happy so I would stand out. Except I couldn’t handle standing out, because that would require increased human interaction and I don’t think I can handle that.
God dammit. I’m too much of a pansy to cut my own throat. That would make everything so much easier. And that’s really what I want in the end. For life to be easy. I know that isn’t right. You have to work hard to get what you want. I, unfortunately, am terrible at working hard. I hate it. And hence, I will get nowhere in life.
It’s this sort of thinking that would lead to trouble, but I’m not the sort to cause that. Or be in it. Or be around it.
I am a coward, a fool and a liar.
It’s not that my life is terrible. No, my life is fucking awesome. I’m in another country, I have family that loves me, a job, half a car, friends who sometimes acknowledge my existence. Things are sweet. I’m just shit at my life.
And I still can’t talk to girls. And I still have feelings, of varying degrees, for several that I really shouldn’t have. Not in a romantic, unrequited love way, just in a sad, seriously dude? Sort of way.
I’m fine. Used to it. Just needed a vent.
Goddam I could use a drink. Or a handful of codeine.