So, last night, I went to bed with a migraine that lasted until I woke up in this morning. Or yesterday morning, since it's already tomorrow, now.
Anyway, it was one of those headaches that you get when you take a really long nap during the day, or when you've been exposed to TV rays or computer rays for too long. Well, I took like, three naps on Saturday and oh, yeah, on that beautiful, sunny day, I spent the entire day on the couch watching chick flicks on the W channel (yay for triple flicks).
However, waking up with a TV/too much sleep migraine made me realise that I am a loser.
... A big, fat, lonely loser.
I try to make it seem like everything is all good and fun but I think that my social life disappeared in like, the tenth grade. After that, I just forced myself to believe that it wasn't my fault and that I didn't need people in order to live a happy life. I mean yeah, once in a while I'll go out to a movie or to a party, but I recently read in a magazine that you can't survive more than three days without sleep, three weeks without food, and three months without love. Like, if you were stuck on a deserted island, alone, for more than three months, you'd probably become severely depressed and then go stupidly insane. I guess that's why Tom Hanks had a gay love affair with a volleyball in that one movie.
I'm not looking to become one of those people who go out every single day of the week, because that's really not my thing, but I don't know... This is going to come out totally and completely lame, but it would be nice to have someone call me up and be like, "Hey, we're going to __________ today, you should really come!" and have it not be like one of those last-minute invites because you happened to talk to that person online and asked them what they were doing that day.
... Yeah. That is pretty much it. The completely pathetic confession that I have been harbouring for a good four years, now. Maybe all this time spent alone has forced me to have too much time to think and therefore, have so much time to write.
Maybe the loneliest people write the prettiest things.
Anyway, time to go and crawl into a hole, now.
