To the Shrink

When I look at the pictures of myself before I left for school, I see a person who is bored with life. I can see a person who is existing inside of her own world. She laughs at nothing and dreams for days on end. She can never see the beauty of what is in front of her. She runs away to find a heart.

I’ve been in college for one semester. I left thinking I would learn to live. You see, I know my problem. That’s why I don’t go to a shrink and write useless rants on the internet instead. I would never go to a psychiatrist for her to tell me what I already know. She will tell me that I want to be someone else. A person who is satisfied with their life. She will say that life is not like the television and that I simply need to grow up. Fairy tales don’t come true and the monster beneath my bed is only my shadow. She’ll reveal all this a bit more crypticly than I just have, but all together she’ll be saying the same thing.

I want to do fun and crazy things. I never want to spend a free night at home. Two nights, if not three in a row, of my vacation were spent sitting in my living room all dressed up with no where to go, and with no one to go with. And I live in New York for heavens sake! I desperately need more friends and need to be a bit friendlier to the friends I already have. My best friend who before college I spoke to on the phone three times a day, gets no calls now. When I see her, I almost always get annoyed with something she does and then ignore her. Conversations usually end after she says she has no cash. Then I get mad and call her a bum. She decided our senior year of high school that she was going to take a year’s break before beginning college. Instead, she would work to make enough money to live on when she decided to move. In the end, she only fulfilled half of her plan. It was the half that was not going to school. She sits on her stoop all day and texts her basketball buddies on her sidekick; she doesn’t work. Therefore, she is a bum. Maybe she not raunchy smelling like the ones in the train station, but believe me, she doesn’t lift a finger to help herself. I try not to judge her and to encourage her to do something with her life before she gets bored and pregnant, but she easily tunes me out and the conversation ends.

I need to be able to express my feelings better. I bet if I could do that, I could be eternally happy and effectivei n getting my best friend to do something. She’s like Patrick, from Spongebob.

But you know what I don’t like. I don’t like how the story jumps from my problems to my the problems of my bestfriend. Do you know why? Because I don’t know how to talk about myself. It’s not like I’m a boring person, or lead a boring life. Not at all. It’s just… what do you talk about? I hate small talk. Talking about yourself is small talk, nothing more, don’t let them tell you different.

Let’s see,

My best friend and I do nothing all day but tell dumb jokes and act like kids. We’re the biggest kids you’ll find in New York. We saw the Road to El Dorado and Shrek, of our own free will and found them both to be hilarious. I think you are truly grown up when you can laugh at he jokes made in cartoons. Have you ever seen a kid watch tv. There’s no laughing involved when a kid watches tv. It’s just staring, the tv is watching the kid. The jokes involve brain power. Now that I think of it, that’s the way to choose a friend or a guy. Plan it out perfectly. You make dinner at your apartment and then pull out the sofa to watch Nemo. If they knows where to laugh, that’s your guy!

Ok, that was my idea of stand up comedy. It wasn’t funny. I never said I was good at telling frickin jokes.

Lulu<3