I like being contrary (maybe, just because I said I always use oxford commas, I won't now). I have little, if any, control over my emotions. My friends are awesome, but sometimes--oftentimes, even--they suck. I can't comfort my friends when they're sad, or angry, or have just broken up with their significant other. This is one of the main complaints of my life: I can't help people as much as I want to. It's not even that I want to go out of my way to help every person I meet, but I do try to do my best. Sometimes that means as little as giving five dollars to charity even though both my parents are (roughly) unemployed, or as much as giving my time and my car to a friend so he can film a video for a scholarship. I want to be able to help my friends when they're sad or lonely or are having family/friend/boyfriend/girlfriend problems but I'm awkward and have significantly less life experience than the majority of them, so I can't.
I never know what to say. Which means that I always say the wrong thing. And then I hate myself. It's completely irrational, I know, but I can't help it. Sometimes a strong wave of self-loathing will come on at the most inopportune or random times for no reason at all. Once it happened as I was turning in an intersection near my house. I couldn't stand just being me for one more second. It lasted for maybe fifteen minutes, the time it took to get to my destination. This was a very insignificant instance of self-loathing--they've lasted up to a week, although, luckily, those only occur about once every two to three months.
Fun fact: I've never kissed anybody. I'd like to. I'd like to do much more than that with somebody, almost anybody (I'm sincerely hoping that I set these privacy settings up correctly). My friends have told me that these things are more special with someone who is special, but human connection? Not my strong suit. I guess I'll have to start with kissing.
And thus, with a kiss, I die.
