Last night I went to Glenn and Timmy’s house party. On paper the elements looked good: the music was great; the company was amiable (all the old crew was there); there were plenty of interesting, though immensely mashed, strangers for me to converse with; and finally, I managed to avoid substance abuse. One would suspect that these favorable strands would draw together to form a beautiful web of party happiness. Unfortunately, as the subject in this case is I, and not some other happy, well adjusted individual, these events must be viewed through the gloomy prism of my consciousness. It often holds that I feel most lonely surrounded by good friends and interesting company. I liken it to a ship wreck survivor marooned upon an uninhabited island; watching sadly as a plane comes into view and then vanishes again upon the horizon: would not the stranded soul be happier for not having seen the fleeting promise of rescue?
I often get to wondering as I sit back and watch the little intrigues: are they all as happy as they seem? Do I seem happier to them than I actually am? Sometimes when I’m out I want to break something – pick up the fucking TV and throw it through a window. Then I would stare defiantly at everyone in the room, just looking for some kind of reaction, some kind of change. Perhaps one day I will tell people things that nobody else will ever tell them. Perhaps one day I will reveal all the twisted things that they do to one another, and then I’ll smash down all their weak justifications, tear at the fabric of the flimsy lies that they have woven around themselves. No, I won’t do that - I’m no better than they are - probably worse in fact.
Kay-Marie (a girl who has had a boyfriend for 5 years) zoomed in for an attempted snog last night. This is not the first time she has had a crack – I’m sure also, that I’m not the only guy she has had a crack at. What the fuck is up with that? If she wants a variety of man-meat why doesn’t she dump the attachment and play the field? Too many people want to have the best of both worlds at someone else’s expense. It is betrayals like this that make me keep people, other than my very best friends, at arms length. I guess that is the reason why I let opportunities like the one last night – a very alluring girl showed me some interest – slide off to the periphery. You simply can't trust anyone in this world.
This is the problem with my up and down serotonin levels: perhaps I did have a good time last night, however I’m feeling down today and thus my recollections are being flavored by present time anguish? Perhaps… Perhaps I simply didn’t get enough sleep and I’m paying for it now? No, I know it is a little more than lack of sleep – I’ve had that ‘the sky is falling in’ feeling today – lack of sleep does not make a person feel this bad.
I read a little on existentialist angst a while back. Perhaps that’s what I’m suffering from. If I was somehow to divine a sign, or some sort of knowledge took wing and flew from the well of the infinite and landed upon my window, perhaps then I would find peace. I don’t see the point in, as I call it, our modern day syndicated lifestyles. I’m being hypocritical even as I write this – as I said earlier, I’m no better. Still, are we simply advanced proponents of breeding and continuation? Is there nothing beyond that? I don’t want to live simply to spring forth into the world a slightly varied reflection, one which, no doubt, will spend its time agonizing over the same questions, all without resolution. A reflection within a reflection within a reflection; and what, ultimately, is a reflection? It is nothing. I don’t want the clothes, the hair cut, the job or the buzz words. You can burn them for all I care. I just want to know! And the lack of knowledge kills me.