Of Fish and You

Of Fish and You

I don’t know if I really want to do this anymore. I’m like the fish we talked about in bio last week. If you set a fish up to fail at something, and it keeps failing, eventually it will just stop trying in general. That’s me, and it doesn’t look like I’ll bounce back like the fish eventually did, when they try a new strategy weeks later after giving up. Why bother wasting energy on that? I can’t come up with any other strategies. I have none. I have no new ideas. I sift imperceptibly in between happiness and depression with seemingly no rhyme or reason. It happens in seconds. I’ll be surrounded by friends, happy as can be. Then head out to my car, sit down, and be depressed. What the HELL is wrong with me? I just want to get out of here, away. Away from this goddamn town, where the things that built me and kept me together have so recently and completely torn me down. But I’m too much of a coward to run—or is it that I’m too “rational” to do so, as you had said. So funny that you would be drawing conclusions and giving me advice on a state of mind and being that you alone seemed to have caused. And oh hell yes, believe me when I tell you I fully blame you now. And you’re so condescending lately, so absurd. Toting her around, showing her off to me, letting me know all you’re doing is being happy and getting ass. Like I care? I stopped caring about you the second I found out you went with her to prom anyway. After you lied to me again. You’re such an asshole. Such a bastard. I hope it works out with your new girlfriend, I really do. I hope you never come running back to me. I hope you live happily and finally leave me the fuck alone. Because you, along with her, screwed up everything I’ve ever known and loved before I came to this college. You burnt the piano, not me. You ate the apple, not me or her, maybe not even Adam and Eve. What am I saying? God, I’m just like you. So similar. That’s why it didn’t work out, you know. Not because either of us were too immature or too grown up… but because we were so mutually immature and “grown up” at the same exact time. Too damn similar. That’s why I hate you. Because I hate myself. So much. And no one will ever know to just what extent I do hate everything I am.