The Train

I may have fucked up. I went out for pizza with him instead of repeating 100 times school only. I did write it down 3 times though. I thought that would be enough. I had some beer and got looser and looser and almost told him how my libido is getting out of control, but I stopped myself just in time. I didn't tell him how I randomly and spontaneously wanted to make out with another guy in my class that I have no interest in. At least I stopped somewhere. He asked if I was going to sleep in my own bed tonight, and for a second, I didn't know what to say. Because I don't really want to sleep in my own bed; I want to share a bed with someone. Preferrably him, but at this point, my standards have been lowered quite a bit. I would probably bed anyone who showed even a passing interest at this point.

But I still have to endure stuff. I am soooo yesterday. I realized that today. It's not like I had no idea, but it becomes more and more apparent every day, and when I saw and heard him flirting with the brown eyed girl for the second time, I got really upset. But of course I couldn't show it, or say anything, because then it makes me out to be a crazy person. But I'm still watching him flirt with this girl that I want to punch in the face and there's nothing I can do about it. So I repeat school only a couple more times and it doesn't help.

A year ago, things were so different. We were on a train together, smiling and laughing and wearing sweaters and looking at all the snow. We heard the engine scream the way it does, saw the steam coming out from behind the wheels, saw the river passing by at 40 miles an hour. The clock was ticking. I had no idea. It really was the time bomb ticking on the train. I sometimes look at the pictures from that day and marvel at how stupid I was. I was completely and totally in love with someone who grimaced in every picture like I was hurting him by just sitting next to him. I was so fucking stupid. I still am. Because I am still in love with this grimacing person who flirts with brown eyed girls and refuses to tell me anything about his life. Who refuses to look at me while he's talking to me (or at me, as the case may be) and watches NBA highlights on ESPN instead. Enough that I was compelled to ask him if he was following pro basketball now. He said no and continued to stare at the screen as if I were so ugly and deformed that if he were even to glance in my direction, his face might melt.

What the fuck is going on with me? Why am I so messed up? Why am I so unattractive to the opposite sex? I really don't want to succumb to believing that I am ugly, but I'm really not far away from it. Before you know it, I will be that girl with the acne and stringy hair that no one wants to be around, and no one really knows either. Great.

So the last time I really felt like I was a good person was a year ago, on a train that went to nowhere and back in the span of an afternoon. Maybe I lost it on that ride.