A Thing I Wrote In The Notes App On My Phone At 1:31AM, While Coming Home From A Party I Didn’t Want To Go To

I spent the entire evening wondering what we all were going to do next and what time I’d be able to go home without people complaining and I drank a ton of water at M’s apartment (out of a blue ceramic mug so nobody would see what I was drinking; my friend drank Red Bull out of one that had the Golden Gate Bridge on it which made me irrationally furious, and I sent a photo of it to my friend in LA with the caption “fuck this city” and he never answered) because I was starting to get bored and antsy and I’m scared of drinking too much because of what happened in July.

Every time someone asks me how my summer went, it feels like someone punched me in the chest, and I just say something stupid about humidity and sweating on subway platforms. I don’t think people would handle “actually it was very bad and now I’m scared of summer because I will probably forever associate it with this one” very well. I know my audience!!!!!

I remember lying about everything about myself when I went to summer camp and my rationale was: I’m never seeing these people ever again and I’m boring so, yes, I’m 11 and am partially psychic—but only through my dreams and I can’t control it, so don’t ask me any specific questions. Should I start lying again now that I’m not being stupid anymore?

We showed up to a bar somewhere near her apartment and I felt that same restlessness and anxiety I always feel when I’m fed up with everything for some inexplicable reason and just want to move move move move move move move move move move and go go go go go go go go go go go and be anyone and be doing anything other than what I’m doing right now. It’s like those feelings hit me all at once and then I’m paralyzed.

But true to myself, and true to how I handle that restlessness and anxiety regularly, I stayed put and silently suffered and my cheeks hurt from smiling at people I have never met and will never see again, and every time someone spoke to me I couldn’t help but think: does my face look weird?

Now I’m in this cab because I didn’t tell anyone I was going to leave and the driver won’t stop asking me if it’s legal/moral for ambulance drivers to turn on their sirens if they’re just bored in traffic because he thinks there’s no way there are that many emergencies happening at once in Manhattan, and I’m watching people walk around and wondering if I will ever figure it out.