I'd meant to write something here, but for one reason or another I always ended up deleting what I started. It's not that I have run out of stories to tell, or have found strangers to tell my stories to. Writing can become a bit of an obligation that you just want to get out of it. There are ideas and thoughts in your head, but you'd rather not put it to form, and instead let them swirl around, until you manage to push them at the back of your mind and let them fade into memory.
I've not had any luck with dating. The longer I stay single, the more I'm convinced that I should stay single. I'm hardly the type who stays single for long, but I'm liking the change. I like how I can feign interest in my dates, pretending I'm someone I'm not, and, in a manner of speaking, making a mockery of this thing they call dating in my own selfish way. One of these days I'll be caught off-guard. Something will happen, perhaps I'll end up really liking someone. Someone who reads, listens to the music I do, takes my sarcastic jokes in stride... it wouldn't be so bad if that guy was a looker, too. For now, I'll settle with trying to be as well-adjusted as I could be, all while rolling my eyes over everything my date says that he thinks is remotely interesting.
I've had worse luck with academics. In the general scheme of things, I guess you could say I'm doing pretty well. But remember that I'm the type who pushes himself to the breaking point? Who always has to be in his best self? I could've done better, but I was too distracted. Half the time I found myself in movie theaters or sleeping days away. For now the gameplan is to study like fuck, find more good music, try not to hyperventilate at the thought of taking the bar exams a year from now.
I'm near the finish line. I've almost done it. I'm on my last semester, and I know I can do it.