What do I say now?

So I dropped out of uni. Which is sorta surprising to me, because I never really saw it coming, but where else could this have gone? And my emotions about all this has been in a weird flux lately between relief and worry, sadness and even deeper sadness. Yesterday at work, while counting the registers, I had this huge hit of I don't even know what. I just got really sad about how my life was unfolding. I want to say I have some sort of direction but I don't. I'm lost. I have absolutely no plans for the future and I'm just sitting in the space between what my future was supposed to be and what it will actually be. I'm empty.

I remember when this was all starting to happen. Semester one was yet to start and I was already sure of where I was going. I was going to be a university drop-out. By this time, I was in possession of my first carton of cigarettes and I figured, on the first day of uni, or rather the day that I was supposed to start uni, I'd go to Victoria park by usyd and smoke away the fact that I was nothing. But when the morning had come, and I had no classes and no routine, I sat on the floor of my bedroom, keeled over and laid stuck still in realisation of how I had potentially ruined everything. I finally experienced what it was, or at least an inkling of what it was, to be cripplingly sad. I packed my carton in my big red coat's front pocket and left for uni. Things got better when I met my friends again though. I drank beer at Manning and ate really big strawberries with Nini. It was nice. No cigarettes that day. From then on, I kept going back to uni to deal with small things and to meet up with friends. I kept meeting with friends during their breaks and every time they asked me when I had classed, I either lied my ass off and said I was done for the day, had classes already! Or I'd mutter and then ask really loudly, WHY, WHEN DO YOU HAVE CLASS? And they'd brush it off and reply. We'd move on and I'd continue lying to everybody I cared about.

I think that's what I'm ashamed of the most. I try to be a good person, I really do. But sometimes it becomes apparent that I'm not. And that's not so bad to me, which just provides further evidence. But lying is a terrible thing. And I did that a lot. I used to try really hard to not lie when it came to secrets like my sexuality. When asked if I was gay, I'd just say "I don't know, am I?" And I'd run away from the question/questioner. And yes, haha, I'm aware that saying "idk" was technically lying because I was well aware of what I was and am, but understand, saying "idk, am I?" was my way of saying yes without actually saying it. And if I couldn't do that, I just avoided telling the truth. But lately, lying became easy and I was doing it left, right and centre. And it was terrible.

Anyways, during my panic at work, I thought about the person I would become and I hated it. I refuse to stay at Coles forever. It's not the worst thing, and if I get high up in the ranks, life wouldn't totally suck, but I would hate myself so much. I'm already disappointed in myself as it is. But I think one of the most deep-seated fears I have is growing up to be just like grown-up should be. I'll work all the time and when I'm not working, I'll be running errands and fixing appliances. I'll make bad jokes that will never offend a single soul but I'll be so incredibly boring.

My foot's numb.

I want to be hip forever. I want to have a famous blog. I want to be someone's dream guy, that down-to-mars boy - with quirks you fall in love with. I want people to be happy around me all the time. I want to remind people of happiness. Which I guess is a bit much and a tiny bit unachievable because who is so unromantically good, they'd remind them of happiness. But I want to be cool forever. I want to be those cool white men with opinions and beardy beards who eat organic, have cute apartments and dress well. I'm not any of that now. Not at all. I blame my upbringing haha, I kid.

I want to be famous. I want people that know me now to be amazed. I want them to think, I knew that guy and I'm so happy for him. I want myself, right now, to look at that guy, that world-class director, and cry from happiness. I just want good things for myself. I do hear how ridiculous that sounds. But I want so much for the person I become. I want to rise from whatever this is. I want to be someone interesting.

But we, as a species, or as a group, or as people who want to survive, need to think realistically. And yet, the ringing in my ear - I'll survive, but will I live? I'll breathe, but will it be worth it?

Let's change the topic. Today I asked for contact lenses, and I tried some and got to go home with the ones I was testing + one pair which I'm saving for Friday night. Anyways, I spent the whole day feeling pretty hahaha. Whenever I want to see what I look like without glasses, I really can't. Because everything's a blur, and being shortsighted, I have to keep my face really close to the mirror to actually see my face. And from that view, everything is up close and personal, and I get to see all my flaws, up. close. and PERSONAL. It's a scary thing. But now, I can see myself from a safe distance, how most people would be looking at me. And it's not that bad. Well, I don't think it's that bad. Pretty much, what I'm trying to say is that this change is a nice one for me. I feel better about my appearance. Too bad appearance wasn't my biggest problem.

I miss my uni friends. Probably because the wound is still fresh. Probably because I've been seeing pics of them hanging at uni and having fun together. Probably because I could've held onto that. Probably because I gave it up. And through all the sadness and stress that came out of uni, they were the only thing I loved at usyd.

I miss uni. I miss my friends. I miss all of them.