El Pasado pt. Dos!

10-15-09

Being friendly has rarely worked out for me so far. I mean, of course, taking the initiative to talk to someone while I'm not on the clock. I didn't find myself as popular in high school, but well-known, and unfortunately, approachable. This didn't really bother me so much because I was never lonely. Life is different in college. I tell people it's harder for me to make friends because I don't live on campus, but that's bullshit. It's harder because I don't know anyone here and I am somehow less approachable. So, sometimes I try to reach out when I am feeling... sorta social. It's pretty sad, actually. At least I can admit I'm a bitch. I mean, my sarcastic and dry humor is understandably mistaken by the masses as bitterness. I just wish these poor innocent bystanders would understand I mean them no harm. On the other hand, there are people who may not find me approachable, but more so available, after I poorly attempt to start lame conversation. These people are not o-fucking-kay in my book. Today, I was sitting at a table in the cafeteria and this girl sat diagonally from me. I noticed she had this sort of hot dog-sized pig in a blanket thing, and for some reason I started talking before my mind could go, "STOP! ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?! SHIT!". The feeling of regret soon sunk in when she started talking about why she chose the asiago bread over the plain. I guess that's normal. Still pretty un-fucking-interesting, if you ask me. So, I went back to my "homework" of copying answers from the back of the book. Everything was great again. I may have even thought, "This girl is alright. Who wouldn't get asiago?" The joy and peace lasted for about five minutes. She started chuckling and talking about random shit. Maybe it was from the book she was reading. Maybe it was from some other unknown universe that nobody is familiar with except her. All I could hear was some shit about the mind and body. Well, what I really heard was: "I'm fucking up that nice silent peace we just had, and I dip my asiago shit in mayo, mustard, AND ketchup because I'm a freaky bitch!" Obviously, I did not respond. And when I got up to leave, I did not say goodbye. I hope she took that as, "Fuck you, freaky bitch!" Or maybe she just figured I had somewhere to go and thus, I am the bitch.

I guess my whole point is it was easy to see myself as how I wanted others to think of me. This growing up thing is busting out all the cracks of this glorified image of me until all the imagined pieces fall away, and all that's left is me: the cold-hearted girl who won't open up. Or eat asiago hot-fucking-dog-sized pig in a blanket shit and then talk to a goddamn stranger about the nirvana of an experience it must damn well be.