The Diary of Queen Mothy |
More philosophical Sam rambling... written @ 9:35 PM on August 29, 2002 There was another fire drill today for our dormitory. Thankfully, I was not in the shower. Again. Well, last night after sending my last entry, I discovered some new windows into the soul of my roommate. After I had turned out the light for the night, she sunk under her bed with her cell phone and cried with someone. She has no friends, she says, except one. (Steph #2, I presumed) She's ready to give up on everything at NKU. All she wants to do is go home. She thought I was asleep. I have my headphones on listening to "Evita" as I type this. And she is curled up under her blankets and crying into her phone again to her boyfriend, saying how she hates it here. She thinks I can't hear. I have always been one to freeze in the face of emotion. I don't know what to do. I'm not close to her, so it's not like I can offer anything to her without making it especially awkward to her. My first instinct is to leave, go take a shower or something. But in order to do that, I have to take off my headphones and stop pretending. I haven't felt such a homesick like she has been feeling, unbeknowst to me. It's like I have swallowed my fate whole to wander this earth alone for a while. I've concentrated on work to get my mind off of home and my old securities. I've hardened my heart, chilled my entire soul to be a soldier and survive in this sterner world. I feel the pain of being alone, to not be able to confide anything in anybody, except through my four diaries I keep for school. But physically and emotionally, I feel like concrete. I refuse to be like Stephanie and be consumed by such a misery. And yet I feel like I have to offer something to her. But we are barely more than strangers. And she still has her friends on the phone. I? I spoke to Jessica a little these past two days. I wish I had talked a little longer. About any frivolous thing would have been fine for me. But then it hurts that my roommate can't confide in me, I suppose. How much longer do we have to go on living this lie, letting very little show? We are strangers. We don't owe each other anything. But we are the same people that have grown up a little differently. How different is the stock of our beings? What this comes down to is working up the courage to say, "Let's talk..." If I could do that, I wouldn't have this "loner" problem two weeks old. Only God knows what will happen from here. *** "Survivor" starts in two weeks!! Looks like they've got some Abercrombie poster punks this show. Teehee... Let the games begin, boys! *** I go home tomorrow for Labor Day weekend. Hauling ten tons of college work with me, of course. The weekend would certainly not be complete without it! *note sarcasm*
A Bit of History ~ And Onward! L'Amour Toujours! - August 08, 2005 |
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