It's been forty days since my last writing. My plans to write throughout the summer to train my mind to overcome writer's block has failed. It's still mid July, but I feel the summer coming to a close. Usually summers are the best time for our personalities and friendships. Summer romances, easy living, and a sense of carefree lightheartedness engulf our souls and make us happier. However I must say, for me, and the people around me, this has not been this case. This summer has been a season of broken relationships, fights, tension, and stress. I've watched each of my friends struggle in relationships with their friends and their families, while trying to maintain a neutral yet compassionate role. I've witnessed best friends break ties and watched so many people I care for get hurt. I've diligently stood by them and helped them fight their battles, often fighting for both sides, but this has only pulled me deeper into my dark mental abyss.
This summer has been, for the most part, gloomy and stressful, apart from the terrible weather that's not summer-like at all: hailstorms, rain, and toxic humidity. I've gotten fat, weak, and worthless, and worst of all, I have lost my inveterate charm. The past few months especially, everyone around me hasn't hesitated to inform me that I'm fading. People tell me I'm not funny anymore. Not exciting. Not fun to be around. How am I supposed to respond to that anyway? "Sorry?" It's depressing, and most of all helpless, I feel like there's nothing I can do about it. Have I run out of jokes? Have I just settled into the same pattern of character so that I've become predictable and threadbare? I was never an optimistic ball of light or anything--definitely not one whose undying kindness penetrated and warmed the hearts of everyone around me; but I'd like to say I was fun. And funny. And exiting and unpredictable. Perhaps my friends have just gotten bored of me? I'd like to say that's the case, but I feel it. I notice how lackluster my conversations have become now; how empty of ideas I am when it comes to making plans; how, even when I'm meeting new people, I can only make small talk. How at parties I just watch the rest of the world enjoy themselves from my solitary spot on the couch. And I've neglected my friends--most of them. I'm too bored with my own muted life to even return texts or calls because I know I can't even keep the conversation going. I'm sorry, friends, I still love you all. Anyway, I'd like to blame all this melancholy on my current living situation. Just before this dark age, I spent a semester on my own with a steady income and unlimited freedom. Returning to the miserable prison from where I escaped, now with no money, is most certainly the main cause of this. Perhaps once I regain my independence this will pass.
However. Although I still have some way to go before my freedom, I must say I am glad to see the people around me rising. Best friends reuniting, broken relationships healing, the drama of the past few months is dwindling as the summer passes. To all my friends: I've tried to support you through all of your trials and tribulations, and I hope you continue to feel like you can count on me and never hesitate to ask for my advice or help or to simply listen to you rant. I'm happy to offer my shoulder, despite these woeful self-pitying soliloquies.
