The last time we talked (over Facebook), I ended up bawling in my car, because after explaining to her how things were with my ex, she told me she would have had "too much pride" or self-worth or whatever it was to do anything other than dump his ass. And I took that as an insult, insinuating that I didn't have any pride or self-worth.
Which I didn't. But it's harder hearing it from someone else. If I were a better person I would have broken up with him 8 months before it happened. But we were living together, and I didn't want to leave his kids. If it were just him, it might have been easier. But I didn't want it to seem like I was abandoning them. They considered me a parent. It was hard enough dealing with it when I had no choice.
Anyway. I digress.
I don't know what to do about this situation. Most people probably wouldn't sit around worrying about a lunch date with an old friend. But I worry about any and all social situations, so. There it is. I'm worried.
Mostly, I don't know what to say about myself. Catching up. There's nothing to catch up, really. I've become even more boring since we last saw each other. Even more weird. And I know she's going to ask about my love life, and I really don't know how to explain it without her reacting in what I will likely find an insulting manner.
The truth is that I never want to date again. I don't like relationships, I don't have a sex drive, I don't have much of a capacity for romantic love, and I can't imagine being around someone long enough to hold a relationship longer than about a year. It's not a priority at this point in my life.
I experimented with men a bit (that's what it really was -- an experiment), but I've finally solidified the idea that I don't like them physically. I don't want anything to do with them. And I know if I tried to explain that, they would probably assume I'm gay, which is... I guess a half-truth. But I'm not interested in sex with women, either, even though I find them more pleasing aesthetically. So the closest truth is that I'm asexual, since I have no inclination to have sex again for the rest of my life, and since most people don't even know what that means, I don't know what to say about it all.
There's no point in dating if they'll never get anything out of it. For whatever reason, people want sex. I don't get it, but I'm at least I don't judge them for wanting it. I don't want to be seen as abnormal.
I suppose I could just side-step the matter altogether. But I genuinely have nothing else to talk about.
I go to work. I go to class. I read. I listen to music while researching new music. I go on Facebook. I go to the library. I sleep.
That's it. That's literally it. I'm just biding my time until I can get the hell out of here. And to be honest, I don't know what I'll do with myself once I don't have school to keep me busy. I'll read more. I'll play more video games. Maybe I'll pick up some hobbies, but they won't stick.
Should I talk about my depression? My self-inflicted concussion? My struggle with anti-depressants? My fear that one of my co-workers dislikes me?
These are the only things happening in my life. I'm a boring person. I feel like people say that a lot and don't really mean it. But I feel as though I literally am. I bore myself sometimes.
But mostly I'm just ashamed. People don't react well to my desires and priorities. The co-worker I think dislikes me keeps obsessing over my diet choices. Arguing about and teasing me about my choice to avoid meat. It's getting old, to the point where I tell myself I won't speak to him anymore. Not unless I have to. He's practically my boss, so I keep failing.
I just want to stop talking altogether. Should I talk to them about that? "I get sick of my own voice, and the stupid things I talk about, so on a near daily basis I tell myself I won't speak, and then fail." Should I talk about my borderline eating disorder? How I grab my skin and cry? How I can't look at myself in the mirror?
I don't know. I want to cancel. I don't know why she cares about seeing me. Why she ever liked me in the first place.
I can't do this no-antidepressant thing. God. The "I hate myself" monologue has returned after only a couple days. It was entirely absent for weeks. It's amazing how a sentence will return just from lack of fluoxetine in my sytem.