Life’s Miseries

As of yet, my life has probably been the most boring piece of shit you’ll ever see. My grades are quite adequate, my follies are sparse, my drug life non-existent (nor, frankly, has it ever existed). I struggle to persist in the ever-changing world around me, eking by for reasons unknown. If you’ve kept reading my boring monologue so far, then it’s probably a miracle.

One of those reasons that don’t influence my life is love. Love, what is it, a feeling of affection for someone else, one that is reciprocated by a significant other, I don’t know. What differentiates love from lust, where that line is drawn, I don’t know.

That said, I will affirm that I have had crushes before. Yet I deny them, and I will continue to do so, as to augment my already-dead social life. If that makes absolutely no sense, then by all means, continue reading.

It is strange, these crushes, these feelings of affection that persist, yet you don’t know them, not even the vaguest idea. You see their face on a regular basis, you may even interact with them, yet they mean nothing in terms of either you or them. No advances are made, no headway is achieved, only the confirmation that the other exists is acknowledged. Then why, why do these feelings exist?

Are crushes just a figment of lust, a usage of an image and the imagination of the mind to corrupt a peaceful view into a disgusting manifestation of selfishness? Do crushes have meaning, does the attraction actually imply further observation, further advancements? Are crushes a simple distortion of the translation between the mind, the eyes, the senses, into something desirable, acceptable?

My heart doesn’t flutter when I pass by her in the hallway. My mind doesn’t go numb and dumb thinking about her in my sleep. Yet something makes me yearn for her, something, is it primal, or is it something more sophisticated?

Does it even matter? Does she already have a boyfriend? Will I be the weapon that tarnishes the tranquil soul I see before me? Will I destroy someone, a fate worse than death, destroy her worse than I have already destroyed myself? Is she someone that is not who I think she is?

Then, what does it matter?

I am graduating this month, no more so than the other seniors. And as I relinquish my positions in high school, I shall also cede my ties with it. I shall reach for the memories, many memories, that I have made in that school. And I will discard them, just like so many before them, throw them into a folder, a bulging envelope, and on the front of it I shall write regret. And I will burn it.