Two-Seven-Six

Sometimes when I'm lost in my emotions, I forget that I understand people extremely well.

So, I'm looking at my schedule for next semester, and I think I'm going to change a class or two. I have this one-hour lab for Spanish that I can move around. I'm not feeling a 10 - 11 session right now. It really fits in with the rest of my schedule, but I've got a bad feeling about that time slot. I can move it an hour earlier or put it in the afternoon.

What I mean by "I understand people" is that I figure them out when they don't want me to. The subtle actions are plainly obvious because I overanalyze. I won't say I'm right all of the time, but I will say that I'm usually not wrong.

I'm too nice. I keep throwing myself to the ground like a door mat. That's gotta stop.

I knew it was a lie. I know the score. I know what's going to happen. It's better this way.

Does my search for perfection make me crazy? Does it make me sound like I'm crazy? I'll get my teeth straightened out, I might get lasik for my bad eyes, I might start working out tons more, and I might finally start putting 100% into my classes. That will put me as close to perfection as I'm going to get on my own. Or at least as perfect as I'm allowed. Then everyone who disappeared will look at me and ask, "Wow. What was I thinking when I chose to leave his side?" Or, for those that I left, I hope they say, "I wish he had never left me."

I'm going to walk right by them and not acknowledge their existence. And deep down, I hope they hurt. I want them to go home, bury their head into a pillow and just cry. (I used to be a nice guy. I don't know what's gotten into me.)


I've become a bit more motivated.