Yesterday I went to the barcade I frequent. First time since getting back from home. I’ve been there more than a dozen times. Some of the bartenders know exactly what to get when I walk up to get a drink. But for some reason I was nervous. I usually just go and drink and play and then leave. I brush my teeth and put on deodernt on the off chance I might actually meet someone there. I never do. This time though, I felt the need, for whatever reason, to really clean up. I shaved, took a shower, picked out my nicest shirt and longsleeve. And guess what. Nothing happend. Evertime I’m there, it becomes more and more apparent how I’m just drifting through life, like a ghost. I’m not really there. I see all these people drinking and playing with one another. Talking and having a good time. But I’m just a shadow. It’s like I’m in a whole other plane of existence. On my side, they are shadows taking up space and playing on the machine I want to get to. I move around them and wait my turn, but it’s like they aren’t real. Just vague moving shapes. I never remember their faces or what they sound like. On the other side, I’m the shadow. I get in the way or get on a machine someone else is waiting for. Just a nobody that they look right through. Drinking made me sad last night. Sometimes it makes me happy, sometimes carefree, but this time it only made me sad. I go home after around an hour and a half. Just 3 drinks. Wanted to drink some more, but when I flipped for one more drink, it came up tails. For the best anyways. My bank account is a lower than usual for the end of the month. I think it was the money I spent around Christmas that messed me up. The stress of hell week made me splurge on porn and other shit I shouldn’t have been spending my money on. Also the christmas presents for my family. I shoudn’t be spending so recklessly. I spent $15 on fried chicken for lunch today.
I’m getting nowhere with my thesis project. The little progress I made has impressed nobody. My ideas, as lackluster and underbaked as they are, are put under scrutiny by my other lab mates. I shoudn’t take it personally. That’s what they should be doing. Giving constructive feedback. I can kind of tell that my team mates specifically are getting tired of my no progress routine. Don’t blame them. Maybe it’s in my head, maybe not. Doesn’t really matter. Nothing really matters. I just know that I wake up around 1 in the afternoon when I don’t need to get up earlier than that, and don’t do work when I need to. I go home when I don’t need to be on campus and put off everything and try to squeak by without anyone noticing. Everytime I drink, that simple thought that I need to die and that none of this means anything rings more and more in my head. I always wondered if I could even if I was drunk. But I feel more and more sure that I could probably only get it over with with some booze in me.
And finally and ofcourse, I thought about calling her when I was drunk. I just kept getting more and more frustrated with myself. Why shoud I care anymore? What does it matter? Then I really thought about it and said who cares. Wouldn’t make a difference if I called or not, so who cares? Didn’t end up calling her anyways. Just couldn’t be fucking bothered to. Just like with everything else.