Saturday night

It's Saturday night. I'm alone, I'm idle, and I'm possibly sleepy, and that means I feel terrible about myself.

I have the urge to write something, but to be honest, I really have nothing to write at the moment.

Well, I could write about what I feel at the moment. I'm alone. I'm idle. I'm definitely sleepy. I feel quite terrible, seeing what people are up to and wondering why I'm not up to anything myself.

However, I hate repeating myself. How many times have I complained about being, to perhaps exaggerate things, nobody to everybody? Nobody misses me, nobody genuinely misses me. See? I said that before. As a sort-of writer, I hate repeating myself. I get tired complaining about being constantly in the periphery and never in the middle of the action - although, yes, most times I find myself smack on the dot and yet I get pushed to the fringes just because, I'm guessing, someone figured that I'm not that important.

See? I'm repeating myself again.

I hate repeating myself. But this happens far too often. I can't make things up and say I see one thing when I actually see another.

I hate repeats in general, unless it's something I really like, then obviously, yeah, let's do it again and again.

I hate getting the same old tired advice from most of you lot. Well, you'd go, partly annoyed, slightly condescendingly, never sincerely, if you want to be important to someone, then why not do something about it? Because you never really did anything much, yeah, yeah, I know, I've heard it all before, stop it. But you're not making it any easier though, yes? Yes, I don't always try, but it's not like you're open or anything. "Hi there." "Hi there!" "Want to hang out?" "Uhh, no." You talk in inside jokes and I find myself shut out before I could do the same to myself.

Sometimes I wonder what exactly is wrong with me. I've never really had any good friends. I just have friends. I feel like I'm lying when I say that, but yes, I do. Just nobody that I could really call my best friend. I just go to reunions and make the most of it, but I find myself watching everyone, not being told many things. I get talked to, but there are gloves and ten-foot poles involved. "He's fine, but he has quirks," I hear, "and I don't want those quirks around." People everywhere think I'm weird. I don't put up that front; they just think that way. My elementary friends - when I was young I had close friends, and they were it, and then we drifted apart - now they describe me, under the pretense of fondness, as "weird". But you went along with everything, and now I'm weird?

What, now you're probably making fun of me when I'm not around. Or maybe not. Maybe not at all. Because there really is nothing to talk about. I'm unremarkable, see, and unimportant, never was, never will. And here I am, alone, idle, annoyed that my Internet connection is acting up again, no longer sleepy. And I still feel terrible about myself.

Part of the problem, possibly, is that I never really found a group that I'd fit into. But that's how I've rationalized it lately. I'm being generous. In reality - or maybe I'm being skewed - everybody expect me to assimilate myself into whatever it is I find myself in the middle of. It's easy, supposedly, but sometimes I just want people to not expect anything of me. "No, we like you just because. Now, do you want to hang out?" But it's too late for that now, isn't it? Nobody will say it, but I'm now the guy who's hard to get along with, and somehow it's all because I have opinions and I have feelings and I tend to get too enthusiastic and I do things differently and I just don't look the part.

I shouldn't have written all of that. It never helps my case. But this is what's going on. This is what's always going on. I play nice, and you do too, and a few years pass you don't think of me unless you have to. Or maybe you don't at all. You who I had a massive crush on back in first year. You don't at all.

And your responses...

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