I wonder the extent to which I can push my morals. How many times can I flaunt social norms, albeit discretely? Sometimes I step back and look at myself, behaviorally. (I know I haven’t physically changed.) 

And I take a moment and ponder, is this me?

Have I scared another away? 

Do I prove myself right every time?

I do. I prove myself that I’m too fat, too ugly, too much of a basket case to find happiness with another. 

“Happiness is a state of mind.” 

Well fuck, I know it is, but I can’t be happy right now. I can’t settle, dammit. 

Just fucking sign off. Confirm my suspicions. I knew you weren’t going to be what I could really have, even if you were what I really wanted.

Whatever insecurities I have, I’ll keep to myself. I’ll break it off before I get too attached. 

And I have. 

There is nothing I like so much than the smell of coffee mixed with my cologne, after a long day of study in various coffeeshops.

And there is nothing more pleasant for a study break than peoplewatching, and wistfully and enviously eyeing the couples that pass in and out, oblivious in their bliss.  

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As much as I want to: it is not for lack of trying. Because if anything, it is my fault. 

The way things pan out, everything is cyclical and no one ever lasts long enough for me; it’s as if the intensity burns us out. Or we drift, and I’m too proud on one hand or a bit too desperate on the other.

You want to be close, when I’m grappling with my own demons. 

I am so tired of yearning for closeness, for a friendly harbor, for a social anchor, that I’m caught up in my self-centered angst. And finally, when you want to hang out, I shy and my friend-ADD kicks in. 

I miss you, I really do. I miss you so much, my friends, that I am burnt out from missing, and when it comes time for you to rediscover that we’re friends, I can’t even enjoy the time we spend together.

I feel like I’ve been robbed of something. 

And all those OKC shenanigans are a desperate effort to find in strangers, what I miss most in you.

Teamwork, is a professionalization of friendship.

Teamwork, is when you communicate with the people you are working with on a task, a project, and you set ground rules and establish sub-tasks that don’t overlap, so there is minimal wasted time and effort. 

Or they do overlap. In that case you let the person you work with know that, and you compare and decide how to mash things up, or discard things. At the very least, you communicate. 

You let the other know what your process is, and you jointly edit, refine, distill, during the process so everyone knows, what is happening.

Communicate, for fuck’s sake. 

I think about why I broke things off in times of stress; it seems like blowing up bridges is my favorite pastime in stressful situations. Borne of insecurity, of pride: that kind of inward, narrow, pig-headed suspicion has destroyed some friendships, has eaten away at others. Here are some people that are at risk of being a roadblock to my self-destruction.

JDH: It’s awkward when I pass you in the hallway, and it will only continue to be awkward. I hate that I can’t tell if you’ve acknowledged my presence or if you are trying hard to pretend that you haven’t seen me. 

Don’t you know: I want you to say hi first, so I have the option of ignoring you, bitch. 

My pride won’t let me do that myself, so I’m just going to avoid you, and our motley crue. They were your friends first. 

I already lost this battle with myself, and you were but a casualty. 

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I’ll admit this to no one, much less myself, but I am still as much a awkward virgin as anyone.

One meeting stands out, fresh.

He was nothing spectacular. I found myself counting the string lights. I thought about how pretty his YSL scent was, and if I could buy it for myself.

I was bored.

Maybe I am too concerned with how the other fares. I cannot help but feel a bit of anxiety: I always need them to be satisfied.

I do not think I will find that pleasure with another person, until I have found that one partner who will be there for a while, and spent days studying the subject with him, because I am a slow learner.

I must study each and every aspect of it, to excel in it.

For now, I am good at going through the motions. I am good at returning kisses. I can whisper the sweet nothings that you want to hear. 

But I cannot feel the pleasure that I wish to receive.