So Wonely, I am So Wonely

“Hey you’ve got the Glasto wristband! AWESOME! I loved every minute of it!”
“Yeah, it was good.”
Then the infamous awkward silence occurs as we both discover that we actually hate each other. Ok, I’ve been looking at random people’s wrists ever since I went to Glasto, so that some kindred bond can be developed because we went to the same festival. This unfortunately isn’t true; every random Glasto person I’ve met after the event has been as charismatic as a child molesting daily mail subscriber. This is especially bad because I need new friends, not that I’ve got a problem with my old ones, it’s just that I need ones more geographically closer to me. I have after all moved back home to live with the parents in a small isolated town. This has meant the highlights of my days are an evening of masturbation followed with a finale of crying in shame and disgust.

It was so easy to make friends when I was younger, it use to be just “hey lets kick this leather spherical object around and then shout out jovial terms of endearment, hurrah!” but now it’s “what an ass hole, he likes Mika, Jesus I hope God skull fucks him and his whole family”. Well, ok, after 13 I stopped being the friendly type and became quite the loner due to a multitude of reasons. The fear of trusting someone and then having them rip your heart out became a developed trait. Then when you do open up and allow someone to see what you truly are you end up acting needy and erratic because it’s all so new. The tears follow and the feelings of betrayal are quick behind because “that one time” they didn’t answer their phone when you took far too many drugs and you thought you might off killed someone because you couldn’t distinguish reality and paranoid delusions. Then you realise you’re not as a big priority as they are in your eyes and reality strikes as the knowledge that the good times are gone. I can only hope such experiences make it easier to open up for new friends rather than the other way round.

Regardless, it’s tough shit, because I do need that social aspect of my life. I need the banter about why that woman would make such a better dicking then her friend. I need the philosophical ramblings about why life is pointless and how people should all just fuck till they’re covered in cum, sweat and blood (some girls will be on their period you see). But most of all I need that ear to listen to me when I am down, and the reassuring comments that I am not some insecure retard with a superiority complex. Some people will think I have the personality of a sociopathic stamp collector, but there will always be a minority who don’t. So for my own sanity and happiness I need to find these people and go “do you want to be my fwiend?”