"who has been noticing you sitting in your room reading?"

i think that's the most bittersweet question i've been asked all summer.

i told one of my best friends-- who we'll call hazel-rah, since he reminds me of that rabbit from watership down-- that i miss being unnoticed. well, let me back up a little. hazel-rah and i have been friends for a long time. he's obsessed with exercising. (i think he's aiming for the rocky horror physique.) i'm obsessed with food: the organization, avoidance or study of. we usually cheer each other up, confide in each other, or give each other much needed advice. anyway, today we were talking about college. he said he's looking forward to going back, since he'll have his own dorm room and stuff. i said i'm not looking forward to it, because i miss being unnoticed.

"who's been noticing you sitting in your room reading?"

no one. absolutely no one. i felt strange when i realized that i've been trying to avoid people who haven't even been looking for me. no one's noticed that i've been locked in my room, reading victor hugo, joseph heller, and anthony burgess. why am i putting so much effort into not spending time with people who don't even want to spend time with me? i didn't want to think about it, so i told him i meant when school starts, i'll miss solitude. and i will.

my problem is that i'm a nice person, to the point of caring about other people more than myself. sounds totally great, but it isn't. it's very unpleasant. i'm incapable of caring about myself at this point. for example, i was running to class one day because i was late and had a huge presentation. i ran past a girl who was doing her best to not let people notice she was crying. but did i notice? yes. and did i turn around? also, yes. i spent a good three minutes with her, making sure she was okay before i went to class. at that point, my teacher was already rolling her eyes. incidentally, i have to retake this class this semester, because little things like that add up. and 'i was trying to help someone' isn't an acceptable excuse. it isn't the helping people that i mind, it's the fact that i can't stop. i can't stop trying to make people happy, so i end up knowing everyone. then, because i know everyone, i can't get any time to myself. which makes me hate everyone. and because i hate them, i feel guilty (on top of feeling responsible for their happiness) so i try to help them. it's a vicious cycle.

hazel-rah's question really made me think. were people really trying to spend time with me before, or was i telling myself i didn't want them to so i wouldn't feel as bad? then i didn't want to think anymore. so i went to walmart, bought laxatives and diet cokes and downed twelve pills before i even got back home. (laxative free for almost a month and a half, and i ruined it in ten seconds.)

it's not that i don't want to spend time with other people. it's just not as easy as spending time alone. or more accurately, with pets. aside from some semi-judgmental gazes from my cat and some confused head tilts from my dog, it's basically like no one at home notices what i do. (the truth behind this statement would shock you.) frankly, i'm not sure anyone gives a damn what i do with my time. and that's fine by me.

honestly.