Maddie. 20. New England.
Catching Elephant is a theme by Andy Taylor
Skipping my grad class to try to write my final proposal for it since I didn’t finish the book for today anyway. I bothered to email the professor this time even though he never reads his email before class anyway, but hopefully he appreciates it and goes easy on me for skipping like three classes this month. I’m having a terrible time focusing (obviously, as evidenced by me writing this instead of the proposal). Between all this work and the Arjun thing yesterday and actual work and the fact that my room is a mess and I don’t know what I’m doing this summer and mOthertongue and on and on, I just don’t know how to get stuff done anymore. When I’m not physically exhausted I’m emotionally exhausted and more often than not I’m both. I want to take some time off work without them just saying they can’t keep me, but I don’t know how to accomplish that because it’s too easy for them to replace me. I’m going crazy and I still have a month and a half left of the semester which is awful. I need to write my Decadence midterm at some point in the next few days too, which won’t be easy since I still haven’t finished any of those books either. It’s not okay. I just want to sleep until May.
I keep trying to read and I only manage to get through a few pages before I fall asleep for three hours. It’s getting to be a problem. I shouldn’t be this tired all the time and I shouldn’t be this unfocused and unmotivated all the time. I’m starting to think there might be something else wrong with me than just not wanting to read, because four pages shouldn’t put me into a coma the way it does. It’s disconcerting.
I can’t even begin to express how tired I am of never being the one the guy wants. I wish I were back in Spain. Guillermo wanted me in a big way. Even if it was a bullshit summer fling, it was nice to feel like I was actually in some kind of reciprocal attraction for once. The last time I had that here it lasted for all of about a week. The time before that, maybe two and a half weeks before it all went to shit. I can be happy as a single person, and I am for the most part, but being lonely can get really fucking exhausting sometimes.
I think about Spain too much and all the shit that happened and didn’t happen and could have happened and it’s just distracting as shit and I’m super tired of it. I have three Spanish classes, and whenever I’m in any of them I’m trying to think in Spanish obviously, which immediately puts me back there. When I’m doing my reading in Spanish, it immediately puts me back there. When I’m trying to fall asleep. When I’m walking through town. When I eat baguettes or chocolate croissants or think about drinking or bars or dancing or cobblestones or anything at all, it immediately puts me back there. I need to actually go back so that I can have new things to remember instead of this weird uncomfortable purgatory between nostalgia and regret. Like taping over it for my own sanity.
Everything needs to stop making me think about you. It makes me uncomfortable and anxious. And not in the cute, fun, vaguely sexy kind of way. In the real, unpleasant, skin-crawling, disturbed sleep kind of way. I’m tired of it, I don’t like it, and you didn’t mean nearly enough to me to warrant this much disruption of my life. You actually didn’t mean anything to me at all. So please, get out of my head.
David Foster Wallace (via passade)
