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October 8, 2022
Unless things are going very wrong, I am almost always the person trying to cheer up mopey people. So when my friend texted,
fall be like (shows you the greatest sunset youāve ever seen)
and I made this pathetic, emo reply a few days later,
fall be like (hands you the saddest rainy day youāve ever had to face alone)
rest assured that things were going very wrong at the start of this week.
But things turned around. People were there. They tried to cheer me up. Even if they couldnāt be there, they cared.
In short, I survived.
Yesterday was eventful. One of the most notable events was being stalked by some very strange man at my workplace. I can take solace in the fact that everyone in the room saw it, and my caring manager took immediate, swift, and effective action. Everyone was horrified, and Iām glad, for once, it wasnāt just me.
As for me, I guess Iām okay. Itās the second time Iāve been stalked on this campus, but the first time from a stranger.
I worry people will think Iām a liar, because these sort of things seem to happen to me somewhat often at this point. My dad said I have a good nature, and people like to take advantage of that.
I should, theoretically, be angry. I do get angry. But I canāt afford to stay angry, or else I will drown in misery and become a jaded, bitter person, and that is not who I am.
Thatās not to say I donāt care; I do what I can, I tell the people who I feel can do something about it. But over the years, time and time again, Iāve gotten used to egregious things happening to me and nothing being done about it. Responses of dismissal and blame have numbed me. When other people take action in response to sexual aggression, or even want to take action, Iām surprised and grateful.
Many other people can mentally afford to stay angry and expect their anger to mean something; in all likelihood, it will. But not mine ā
a lucky starās above,
but not for me,
and so Iām finding ways to be glad from day to day, when I should really be profoundly upset.
Anyways, I donāt know if this Chet Baker guy likes me or what. He texted me at 10:30pm asking how to use the word āconducive.ā (Listening to Chet Baker is conducive to being a sentimental fool.) Who does that? I mean ā actually, yeah, he would do that.
I answered his question, and then I mentioned that āBut Not for Meā was in my head, and he asked how the fuck I guessed the next song that played on his computer. I said, āPics or it didnāt happen,ā and he sent me a pic, but āBut Not for Me Chet Baker mixā was in the search bar. At the same time I sent a text calling that out, he said āBefore you say āitās in the search bar,ā I looked it up after practice because I wanted to hear it!ā
Whatever the explanation, thatās pretty magical, but Iām trying not to let it get to my head.
Also, speaking of magical, his birthday is the day before mine. Iām going to get him something ā I donāt know what yet.
The more important thing that happened yesterday was I had dinner with my momās side of the family, who I havenāt seen in literally over a decade.
My one uncle, who I only remember meeting one other time in my life, was saying how my step-grandmother thinks thereās something wrong with the way we are so distant from each other. We donāt hug. We meet rarely. We certainly donāt say āI love you.ā
I guess thatās why I crave affection and closeness from the people I love.
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