In the Beginning
I feel like I've hit rock bottom.
Which everyone feels more than once in life (I was going to put the word probably, but I'm very sure everyone has had more than one instance of feeling like they've hit rock bottom).
So, to piece myself back together, I've decided to journalize my day-to-day life for 30 days.
This is probably a new kind of low, to resort to posting online entries in a sort-of anonymous (but not really) fashion. My name isn't really Steven Pilinski, as my screen name suggests. I'm also not named Jay, as my author bio suggests. I value online anonymity, especially in these cases where I attempt to pour my heart out into words.
Let's begin, shall we?
It all started in the beginning of the semester.
I've always hated admitting that I'm such a high-maintenance friend, especially around these low-maintenance friend praise going around. Yes, I'm high-maintenance, please talk to me. Validate me. Love me—but not too much.
Do you see the irony?
Talk to me, but please don't ever pester me.
The other day, I was quieter than usual, even in the company of friends. I was distracted, and when we were crossing the street to get to a bar, I completely zoned out in the middle of the street. My friend had to pull me to the sidewalk.
"Are you okay?" she asks me, like, five times.
Of course, I answer that I'm fine for five times, then I follow it up with a "Why?"—which I immediately regret, because she lays out this absurd-but-true reason of why I don't seem like I'm fine. Apparently, zoning out in the middle of the street constitutes your mood, and, to be honest, of course it does. You're in the middle of the street, for fuck's sake. Who zones out there?
But, still, I persistently deny her valid reasons. She tells me I'm quieter than usual, so I work on talking more throughout the whole walk to that bar we would just be passing through to greet a few friends, rather than stay to have a drink (I had to physically restrain myself from having a drink, despite complaining that I really needed a drink a few hours ago).
I just had a sip of some god-awful pineapple flavored cocktail.
Then it rained. Good god, it rained—and I managed to walk under this roof that had a whole, and it felt like a bucket of cold water was poured on top of me. I snapped, shouting something about bad luck, then walked faster, separating myself from the friends I've been walking with. That probably further proved that I was, in fact, not fine.
Thank god, though, that none of my friends pester me more with generic questions of "Are you okay?". Instead, one of them just makes a little joke about my misfortune, which made me feel a little better. I end up not minding my soaked jacket throughout my whole trip home.
Ah, but that wasn't the entire point at all.
I was extremely upset because I was the group leader for this two-semester-long project, and we just missed the deadline for implementation. When I just think about it, my knees feel weak. I feel like a failure, because I have these 7 people, looking at me to lead them, and I failed.
I could defend myself, tell everyone I just feel off, like off-er than usual, but would that even be a valid enough reason? I've told them that I couldn't handle being the group leader for the second semester, but why would they insist? I didn't have a choice, and we're all going to fucking pay for it now.
Of course, it's all my fucking fault.
I should've probably just picked my shit up, but sometimes, that's just easier said than done. I had classes a while ago, and I had to lie that the professor announced that she'd be gone for the day, just so I couldn't go to class. You see, when I type that out, it's when I just see how fucked up that was. God, why are some days more unbearable than others?
It's almost 2AM on December 2, and I have a fucking essay due in 20 hours that I have yet to start on, and I'm here writing out a stupid fucking journal thing that I'm about to post online. My knees feel weak, even when I'm sitting down. Every other sentence, I'm eyeing this Chuck Palahniuk novel beside me, and I'm sure I'm just gonna read that rather than do that essay.
Ah, and all this has just revealed is how terrible and privileged I probably am.