Morose
So. Here we are.
On the verge of the 11th month of 2005.
Did ya'll get a lot of candy tonight?
I didn't. I had to work. Blast it all. No caroling, no acquiring of candy...
Blast.
I'm being bad and not reading my English assignment. I'm going to stay up uber late doing it.
Yes, you read that right. I said uber. Don't freak, okay?
I went to a party Friday night at the Christian's house. Most of the Youth Group was there. It was lots of fun, but toward the end of the party, I looked around.... and realized that I was pretty much the oldest person there, barring the "chaperones." Candace is my age, but she's "dating" Richard, so she doesn't really count.
I felt... old. And out of place. And lonely.
Please forgive me while I ramble, trying to sort this all out.
I'm finding myself in a peculiar position... on the top rung of the youth group. I haven't been to the Sunday School class in, oh, three years, because I have my own. So I'm not exactly an integral part of things.
No, I'm not left out, but when I come... I'm kind of on the fringe of things.
I don't even know why that bothers me. It never did before.
Maybe because before, if I wanted to talk to someone, there would be someone to talk to. Now, even if I'm looking for conversation--of any type, not just deep intellectual stuff--it's nowhere to be found. It's elusive.
I'm starting to feel like one of those people who try too hard to be liked and accepted, and I'm wondering if it's at all worth it.
Maybe I should move to the mountains and become a hermit... hermitess... a recluse.
Then no one would bother me, and I wouldn't bother anyone else.
It's not that I'm being pushed away... but that age gap is hard enough to bridge without my peculiar social quirks.
I guess I just feel ignored sometimes.
*sigh*
This is me.
This is me, having a pity party.
This is you.
This is you not feeling sorry for me.
Thank you for your time.