Earlier this evening, as I was laying on my bed, huddled in the corner, crying into a Hawaiian-print pillow, I came to the realization that I have finally come crashing down from whatever high-on-life state of euphoria I was living in a few weeks ago. Perhaps it has been the weather, or the lack of running, or the fact that I gained two pounds. Maybe it is just that I came to terms with the fact that my friends from work are bimbos and that the only guy I even had a semi-crush on since the ex-boyfriend is dumber than a rock. I suppose it could also be that everyone else has a “real” job and I’m still being a slacker. Or that being superficial and shallow and living out of a Tumi backpack and frequenting smoky bars every night just isn’t for me. Who really knows? I don’t. I don’t know what I was so damn happy about in the first place.
I think what really happened is this:
Right around the time that Jamie came to visit, I started to notice that my bimbo friends from work kept getting wasted every single night of the week and that they were pretty stupid. I also noticed that the bartenders were idiots and that the only person worth talking to at work was a chain-smoking drug addict, so I figured my social life was about to take a dive. Seeing Jamie reminded me of my former, more meaningful (yet boring) life. Then I received an e-mail from the ex-boyfriend (who I should stay away from) that brought about a feeling I can only describe as complete and utter relief that I still had someone to talk to that understands — someone like me.
The ex-boyfriend and I have been e-mailing and I have been reading books and doing crossword puzzles and searching for jobs on the Internet again. I visited Richmond this weekend, and I managed to get a run in this afternoon. I feel like my life is going back to normal — I’ve stopped obsessing over designer clothing and Neutrogena Build-A-Tan.
However, an immense frustration has accompanied all of this. I’ve been frustrated all day. Frustrated that I didn’t get into Navy OCS earlier this year, frustrated that I don’t know why the boy is e-mailing me, that my “friends” from work are so not stimulating, that I am waitressing with a college degree, that I am doing bad at Weight Watchers, that I have no life plan, and that I am thinking way too much again. I’m especially frustrated that I can’t go back to being content and oblivious the way I was two weeks ago.
What the hell happened?
