Ballad of Big Nothing

 Instead of going to bed, I am writing. I haven’t in a while. I’ve been too busy. I’ve been spending a lot of my time with friends. Maybe too much time, but I hate being alone when I don’t want to be, which is a lot these days. I’m in a dorm for most of the week, I may as well enjoy my freedom. I may as well distract my mind from turning on itself. 

Things are more complicated now. I’ve had sexual relations with a couple more people now. I don’t know what I’m doing, nor how I should feel. I tried to break it off with the first one, due to her "clingy-ness". She said she had feelings for me. I didn’t like that. It took me a week to tell her that I felt nothing more for her than physically. But I didn’t want to be one of those guys. So I also told her that I understood if she didn’t want to practice anything sexual. She said she didn’t mind, but she was disappointed. She hasn’t been the same since. But we have had sex. She said she was also jealous that I slept with other people, which I responded "we are only in a sexual relationship". She told me that all guys seem to just want sex. If you wanted something more from someone, then maybe you shouldn’t lead them on with sex first. The she asked what I felt about open relationships. I didn’t reply. Nothing. I laid there, looking at the ceiling fan. I was tired and wanted to leave. But I was also horny.

I feel more relaxed with the second girl. There’s something about her, like we’ve been old friends. Neither of us need to try around one another. It’s playful. Relaxed. I can spend hours with her–days– and could never get tired of it. We’re both damaged, in a way, but we relate. We connect. We know the world sucks, and life is insufferable, but we stick with it no matter how much we want to give up.

The third one is a guy I met through the second girl. We got drunk at his house one night and ended up in his bed. Some stuff happened, but then he pretty much passed out. Neither of us have spoken about it. I’m not sure what is going on. I don’t know what he thinks. What I think, really. It’s just there. It may not go anywhere.

Work has sucked this weekend. People are miserable assholes. I’m miserable. It doesn’t help. I want to cut. I want to slice open my fucking arm and bleed out all over the floor until I pass out. I nabbed razor blades from work. Unused ones. Still in the package. I really want to use one, but I’m holding out. Going to bed will help.

I have two performances this week. I don’t really know either. My solo one is Tuesday. Haven’t memorised it. I’m going to Georgia on Thursday with my group class. We’re performing there. The performance is only half complete. We have one more class to figure it all out. It’s going to be a cluster-fuck. I’m anxious as all fuck. I’m stressed as all fuck. I’m exhausted. Worn out. It’s only the fourth week of school, and I feel horrible. 

Fuck it. I’m going to bed before I have to wear long sleeves for a while. Then again, I already do. Especially at work. My new scars have yet to fade. So, I could–no, fuck you. I’m not. I’m not. I’m not. I’m not. Fuck. Go to sleep, asshole. Go to sleep.

Ugh.