Pens and Exploding Jenga

I was out with a friend yesterday. Yes, I actually have friends, granted not too many of them. It was a splendid day that involved catching up, food, the Disney store, frozen yogurt, Just Dance, and Exploding Jenga. I highly recommend Jenga Boom. It’s like regular jenga with a time limit, so it’s much more intense. I lost three out of ten or so games, so I wasn’t too bad.

After all of that I realized that all of my closest friends are the ones I met in seventh grade, which was about seven years ago. I haven’t really made friends since, not even in high school. I made some acquaintances that I would chat with every once in a while in class but that was it.

Camera 360Even when I went to university, I didn’t cultivate any lifelong friendships. After about two years there, I can say I still talk to about two people, and not even regularly. I could blame that on my social anxiety and depression but it was mostly because my personality kind of clashed with others’. For about a month or so I would do everything I could to join groups and open up more but it just didn’t feel like me… I felt completely disillusioned by everything and so I just began to isolate myself in my room.

I’m pretty good at small talk but that’s mainly it. I can talk for hours about sports, dogs, music, television, movies, and even the weather. But when it starts getting to that personal stuff… woah, hold on there. I can’t even let you borrow my pen.

By the way, I am completely anal about my pens. I’m in love with my Pilot .38’s and no one is ever allowed to borrow them. I know, I know, it’s a bit strange and deranged. I just… I like my pens, okay?

So maybe it’s my commitment issues that’s the problem.

Or maybe it’s the way I carry myself. I don’t really know. Sometimes I think I can be a bit rude… and boring I guess.

That’s another ‘oh well’ in my book.

If you like video games, board games, reading, lazing around, playing in the park, being immature, people watching, and/or dogs; then we can be the best of friends.


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