Thirteen is divisible by two numbers: one and itself. So not only would it be relative, it would also be fairly poetic to describe this year as the thirteenth year of solitude. Depressing but relative. That makes me wonder… referring back to the first entry, which was all about introductions, how many people do you have to introduce to properly have introduced yourself?

Because even though you feel alone, there are many people who make up your story. Right? So do I introduce just my nuclear family or my extended family too? Do I introduce the priest who sends a bible and his blessings, the kindergarten teacher who taught me letters, and other people who have had some sort of influence, whether it was positive or negative?

Alright I know. I even annoy myself with all my questions. They aren’t worthwhile. I can’t introduce you to every last person who has influenced my life because it’d take up too much time and effort. Not to mention paper. So there’s my mom, Adele, my older sister, Tina, both of their random live-in boyfriends, and Janis Joplin.

And yes, there really is Janis Joplin. If it wasn’t for her songs like “All Is Loneliness” (“Loneliness come botherin’ ‘round my house”), every day would be hopeless. A day where you wake up and are introduced to yourself all over again; you never have the understanding it takes to be somebody. Anybody.

So I listen to Janis and feel a little less hopeless.

Stupid. That’s how I feel. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I, with all my stupid, incessant questions, forgot to question whether or not I could come up with a good enough story. Anything was okay with Mom (“What happened to your arm?”, Me: “I tripped”, her: “Aren’t you at least going to go wash it off?”) but the kids at school wouldn’t dismiss it quite so easily.

Whatever, freak. They said after they gave up arguing. But they weren’t convinced; they laughed about it. The worst part isn’t that they laughed.

It’s that it didn’t matter to them. Mom was too distracted to realize a problem and my classmates… Their introductions were a lot smoother than mine was and their heroes were all their moms and dads. Daddy, daddy whoever the hell you are.

Have you been in solitude for the past thirteen years?