Thrashing

It's a quiet summer morning.  Nothing but the buzzing and chirping of insects sweeping over the trees.  It's a prehistoric, primordial sound.  Something I usually filter out as white noise. 

This morning I thought of all the "best friends" I've had who either took advantage of me, betrayed me, or abandoned me.  I wanted to thrash around in my room and destroy everything.  I don't keep any friends these days.  I have two dear old pals who live on the other side of the nation, and they are really my only friends in the world anymore.  I've replaced socializing with reading, crafts, computer games.  The me from 5 or 6 years ago, if given a glimpse of who I have become... would not recognize herself.  I've built a fortress around me. 

After losing (my former best friend) J. A., a part of my heart died.  I no longer crave much contact with humanity.  I don't know what that means for me.  It's probably a lot safer.  I don't trust anyone to be anything more than monkeys with slightly more sophisticated brains.

It's Saturday, and I will have a million things to do when I finish my coffee.  I've discovered that the best, perhaps only way to get things done is if I set a timer for slightly less time than I think it will take me to complete any given task.  I try to race through it, which saves me time an gives me an exciting goal to think about which takes my thoughts off of my mind-numbing chores, and makes them go faster.  And boy will I have a lot of them.  I've made up my mind to clean house.  Every room is filthy, and there's no one but me to clean up because my mother and S are too busy.  The job feels tremendous.