I am not depressed. I don't have a shitty life. I don't have to worry about money as far as the basic necessities go. My parents aren’t rich by any means, I mean they are both social workers. I guess comfortable is a good word. We have a nice house in a nice neighborhood of a nice town. This nice town is literally right next to Boston, so we are not cut off from the real world.
I don’t really know where I am going with this. I guess that is what my problem is. I am lost. I start each day and just go through the motions. I am numb. Each day is the same. I wake up. Try desperately to finish the homework I could not strum up the motivation to complete the previous night. Go to school. Go to chorus. Go home and read the night away while recklessly jeopardizing the chances of my attending one of the colleges I want to go to. I don’t know why I do this. I don’t know why I don’t care. Why I just want to give it all up and become a car mechanic. Why that job appeals to me so much. Why I can’t seem to convince myself fully that that life would not appeal to me. Why I so obviously would become bored and bitter.
I want to become a doctor. I want to go the Mcgil. I want to want these goals. I want a girlfriend. I want to stop lusting after straight girls. I want commitment. I am 17 years old and have yet to have a relationship that matters. I guess there are many who could say that. I don’t want to be one of them any longer though. I want to be able to go to my junior prom with my girlfriend. John is great of course, but it is just another night. There is no romantic allure to it.
I am a romantic at heart, and have these fantasies of falling for a girl and her setting me straight. You know the whole be a good kid, stop fucking around, do your work, and stop doing drugs. I wish I could write well too. I have all of these ideas running through my head without any means of eloquently expressing them. O well.
I wish for a lot of things. Love. Motivation. I have neither.
Also, the dress shoe industry officially discriminates against tall people. For the past few years, I have not had a pair that fit me. Today I wanted to remedy the situation for the silly prom I have been talked into attending. I braved the elements, and what did I get? Stores that went up to a size 10 as far as their formal shoes went. They taunted me those damn stores. Hah! They said. You can look and admire the pretty shoes, but will you actually be able to wear them? No! I scoff at your large feet. You are much too tall for our shoes, they claimed. The sales associate laughed when I asked if they had any shoe in a size 11. By that time, the winning criteria for a pair of shoes was black. I finally threw in the towel and resorted to the internet. Shopping for shoes officially sucks.