PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Every day after work, I'm excited to come back to my house relax. My house; the one that I'm renting. The one that I'm sharing with one of my best friends that is full of our instruments and so much room with which we can do whatever we please.



But then I return home, and after I tire of playing my drums and sitting around on the computer, I completely forget why I came to live here in the first place.



I remember how I felt back home, just before leaving for Columbus. I was falling apart, and felt as if there was no other choice but to leave and to try and start over for the most part. My life was going nowhere,  I was bitterly lonely but was still too afraid to really get out there and try again, and I hated everything about my day to day. I was getting along with all of my closest friends less and less each time we saw each other, and I couldn't bring myself to accept that this was simply life and what it had to offer me.



Somehow, the thought of going to a new city, even one that's only a couple hours away, seemed so completely logical to me. I had these grand ideas about what my "new life" would be like, and I was told by my now current roommate that things would be exciting and interesting once I arrived. I would meet new people, go out and have fun and most importantly of all: we would be writing music as often as we could find time for.



And now, here I am. I have no friends in my city, I'm stuck with a job that I hate almost as much as I hated my old job, and we never leave our home. My roommate seems to know no one other than his boss, whom I don't really care for. And on top of that, the fact that I once again have no life and no reason to be here: we're not even playing music. We're not writing, not recording, we're not even fucking jamming for fun. I can't get him to get up and do anything, and I guess I can't really say too much: I can't get myself to go out and do anything about any of it either.



I often think about getting another part-time job, to help with expenses and to force me to go out and meet some new people. But it seems to be rare that people understand me, and even rarer for me to understand them. I've completely forgotten how to function in a social manner. Back in Cincinnati, I had my group. As a whole, we were all very awkward, very private and fiercely loyal to one-another. We know next to nothing about making new friends and bringing them into our ranks. We turn people off and turn people away. We get each other, which was good, because nobody else got us at all and generally didn't bother with us for long.



But up here, I don't have them to fall back on. Even while I was living with my parents, I hated that they were all I had. They are my best friends and probably always will be, but I know that we could be such an active group if we could just figure out to be... Normal, I guess. We're all intelligent, kind and good-looking guys. We all have a lot of hobbies and we're all very creative. But we just don't seem to get a lot of things that other people get.



Here, in the city that I had hoped would allow me to find happiness, I have nothing. At the end of the day, all that I have gained is more time with which to do absolutely nothing. After work, I lose all steam and motivation, and I sit in my room hoping and praying that I'll feel good again soon. Uprooting myself and coming to stay here seemed so right, and now, after living in the apartment and then finally moving into the house that was supposed to solve so many problems, I've come to see that this entire excursion has just been a colossal waste of time and effort.



It's only been a couple of months, and I know that things could get better. It's just hard for me to not feel so disappointed and sad. I thought everything would get better. I thought I'd be able to feel like a worthwhile person again. But I feel more useless than ever; working a totally dead end job that could be taken away any day, and then coming home to the vast amount of nothing that I've accumulated during my stay.



My dreams are haunted by my ex-girlfriend, and by the fact that I'm at a standstill in my life. It's as if my subconscious is mocking me, playing these vivid depictions of all of my failures before my eyes.



So many of my oldest friends no longer speak to me. Even my best friend barely has the time and will only give me the time of day when it's convenient for her. My parents tell me every day to come home if I'm feeling so miserable, but I can't just do that. I can't give up so soon.



I am miserable. I hate being up here. The life I was supposed to be living simply doesn't seem possible anymore, and now I'm doomed to feeling this way for the next year.



I'm a very negative person, so I have to keep in mind that things could change at any time. But it's hard to keep that thought in my head when I feel like shit every single day.



Thanks for reading. Sorry to bore you.