So the whole festival is over, except for some shipping. And now it's back to the old life that wasn't that much fun to begin with. The festival was lots of fun. I had something to pay attention to, something that needed my attention. And now I'm at home, recovering from the exhaustion, and my phone has stopped ringing. I've stopped getting emails. I've stopped getting anything at all. No one needs me anymore. No one pays attention. They even had a pizza party at the office, and I wasn't there because I was at the theater, still working. I couldn't help but feel really left out. Forgotten. Completely. I guess it's the same old story. I sit in the back and no matter what happens, no one ever notices me. I think the only person who knows how much I've done is my boss, because I did a lot of the stuff that he normally does. Yes, it's nice that he noticed, but all the same, I wish something was different. Like people really recognized what I did. Or maybe I'm just upset because I have nothing to go back to. I have no one there to be in my regular life when I'm a regular person. I guess the best way to learn how lonely you are is to be wanted by everyone for two weeks. When it stops, all that's left is the couch and a bunch of useless outifts. So in the last few days, I've realized how friendless I am. I have no one who wants to hang out with me or talk to me just because I'm me. I've learned that the only reason people want to talk to me is because I have something they want. I have access. I have a say in something they care about. A girl I work with didn't do anything to help me during the festival, but as soon as someone famous shows up and I'm the one running the show, she's like my best friend. Go figure.
So this is my new routine: eat cereal for dinner, make some books that no one will ever care about, let facebook make me feel even more lonely, and watch too much tv. I don't even know how to hook up my new tv that's supposed to be so great. There's no one to help me move my furniture. No one to rub my aching back or feet. No one to cook me dinner because I'm too tired to do it myself. No one to take my car to get the oil changed. No one to even talk to. No one to cry to about my advancement. No one to make me feel special or necessary. Sometimes I don't even know why I bother trying. Or living. It seems that if I let go and just got a job at McDonalds, nothing would really be different. I would probably have more money, actually. But then, if I didn't have my job, I really would have nothing.
