school apathy

The Fog

I feel crippled.

I have no drive, no will to do anything. I briefly got into a new novel, but that quickly took priority over more important things, such as homework and looking after my taxes, so I made a point to finish it as fast as possible in order to get on with my life. It’s been the only thing to hold my attention consistently in weeks.

I’m apathetic. Things that should excite me are simply reminders of all the things I’m dreading, the things I’m putting off. Reminders of the papers I have to write and the ever growing piles of emails in my inbox I’ve yet to answer.

I spend my days feeling like I’m following a script, walking half asleep through a haze, going along with my schedule without taking anything in. I go to my classes, but I either sleep through them, or find myself zoned out completely. I take notes sometimes, but the minute they’ve been written on the paper, I’ve forgotten what they say. I do study sessions with Jimmy, but those usually end up as him doing all the work and me sitting there, trying to think and failing. After he grows tired of my poor attempts, we give up and go for coffee and talk about how tired we are. Sometimes I worry he’s interested in me in a way I don’t feel I can reciprocate, but I can’t muster enough attention to be bothered by it. Hell, at this point, it could just be that I’m too far gone to notice any potential for emotional attachment. In a more heightened state, I suppose it’s possible I could have had feelings for him. It’s hard to say. 

I got a new job. I applied spontaneously, the way I’ve been doing most things lately, and got an interview. I dressed up a bit and went through the usual motions. I got hired. Today was my first day; I forgot to bring in some of the paperwork I needed.. I guess it just slipped my mind.

I’m officially seeing Matt, the boy with the newspaper. I feel like there’s potential with us, but I can’t break out of my apathetic bubble. The first day we spent alone together I felt… well, I felt, and that was a start. When we touched near the end of the night, everything felt electrified. We kissed in the Skyview Lounge in HUB mall while standing above a scattered handful of students, people I have never met, and I was just so delighted by the way his skin felt against mine, as well as the smell that came off his skin and clothes, the scent of a guy who works around vehicles. I love that smell. When we parted ways in the main floor of the LRT, it was late. We hugged, and I went onto my toes to kiss him good bye. I held a smile on my face most of the trip home without having to try.

As I walked through the parking lot of the building next to mine, I texted Gordon.

“we have a problem”, I wrote. “I really like him”.

It was a short conversation. The hurt was almost tangible, and I felt bad, but I was still riding a high from the previous few hours.

Matt and I spent much of the next week together. He stayed over onThursday night, after I finished yoga. We fucked twice on Friday. Both times went better for him than they did for me, but with my history of hook ups, that wasn’t anything new. I let him do his thing, and then cleaned myself up while he sat there, sweaty and panting. I reassured him I wasn’t disappointed in his performance, which was true, and he grew fidgety from lack of nicotine. We showered, (separately, as I’ve yet to feel confident enough about my body around him to be that open), and went to Tara’s birthday.

We had a decent time, considering his new smoke-free lifestyle was throwing a dampener on his good mood. The bar was playing bad music too loudly, and many of Tara’s friends seemed less than eager to make conversation. I didn’t drink too much, and spent the night chatting with whomever ended up in the seat next to me. Near the end, Matt and I went out and shared a joint, and he loosened up considerably. Everyone seemed to like him. 

I introduced him to IHOP, which we both agreed was sub par in comparison to Denny’s, and we had a fun afternoon at the pet store. Most nights ended up with him frantically trying to soothe his cravings until we either went out and smoked weed or went to bed. The sex got better, but not dramatically.

We became official on March 19, a week after our date at Remedy. I was happy, yet hesitant. The satisfaction I gained from being single had yet to lose it’s appeal, and I enjoyed not worrying about a boy. My interest in him won over, and I agreed. Since then, however, I’ve seen him twice.

While he often does things that ease my doubts, just little efforts here or there, they still exist. I’m lonely, I’m bored, I’m tired, I’m apathetic. He put his phone through a snow blower not long after we became a thing, and it stopped working. We communicate solely over Facebook (aside from the one night he called me while he was out smoking a joint), and that’s not exactly consistent. Generally, I spend my days sending a series of small messages about anything I consider interesting that occurs. Eventually, usually late afternoon, he logs in and sends me a handful of longer messages ranting about his day. I’m sure he glances over what I send, but rarely responds directly to it. If he asks about my day, the subject is generally changed immediately after I answer. He goes to bed soon after.

On Sunday, I had what I assume was my last shift at Second Cup. It had been quite a while since we had seen each other. He offered to visit me after work, and I invited him over for the night. Half an hour before close, I checked my messages and found an inbox full of apologies because he had forgotten about a commitment he had in the morning. The last one said he was going out for chips, be back in 20 minutes. I assumed this meant he wasn’t coming by to visit either. I was sad, and spent the night watching Harry Potter and eating a tiny pie instead. Monday we got into a fight over something stupid, and he stopped answering my messages. Tuesday we talked it out. Today is Wednesday, and I’m just to tired to care that we haven’t really talked at all today.

Gordon ended up in the hospital last Thursday. He’s been sad since I told him about Matt, drinking every day and smoking again. He drank until he was vomiting blood and Donovan took him in. Even through my emotional fog, I felt angry, hurt, and guilty. I just wanted to drive to him, hug him, and play cards while he got better. I worry about him so much. Sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice- I don’t know that I’ll ever find a boy that cares that fucking much about me, but I also know his lack of self sufficiency was dangerous. That coupled with a few other more minor things stood in the way of me allowing myself to commit to him. Better I did it when I did instead of months or years later. We still talk, but I care too much about him to stay silent when I know he’s doing things to hurt himself, though I know he hates when I chastise him for it. It’s a constant battle, me trying not to nag, and him trying to keep his temper about it. I hate his temper.

Angry men scare me more than anything.

Right now, I should be writing an essay.. or, at least, a different essay. I have three tabs open to various Google docs; my outline, my essay notes, and the nearly blank one that will hopefully soon contain my term paper. I have made very little progress. After work, I came home and crawled into bed with my laptop and some coffee, and a buttload of good intentions. This is the fourth time I’ve attempted to write this paper. I just can’t seem to focus.

Last time I tried, I ended up finishing the book I was reading (American Gods, since I know future me will stop reading this to contemplate which book I meant). The time before, I ended up ordering a DIY ear stretching kit- more acts of spontaneity. I just can’t focus.

Wendy thinks I’m just tired. She’s probably right. I’m just worn out, finished with the early mornings, the late nights, the long classes. It’s been four long, stressful years. I’m beat.

Obviously I can’t give up. I’m relying on my luck to pull me through tonight, enable me to pull some B- of a term paper out of my ass and pass my courses. There isn’t another option. I’m too stubborn to fail. Tonight may be the first all- nighter of the term; a long nine hours of struggling through academic papers and grammar mistakes and proper citations, punctuated by too-long trips to Facebook and Snapchat. I still don’t understand Snapchat. But that doesn’t matter… what matters is the distraction it supplies.

I should probably go back to that paper now. I just want to go to sleep.