i've been okay until today, a lengthy-ish conversation ending in frustration. so, today, i've been thinking *properly*.

partly thinking about how lonely i am. a couple of friends in vancouver, and the old 'best friend' who didn't even call after i told her my grandpa died. nothing.

who else? no boyfriend, no lover, no family there. one proper friend, but one friend can't play the role that should be occupied by many. so it feels like nothing sometimes.

here? my room is now my cousin's, evidently. my mom cleaned out my closet for her, my drawers, a couple of shelves. i don't know where a lot of my stuff is. it's fair enough because i'm hardly ever here and she needs the space and room and i don't resent her for it, but it's hard coming home when there's little that's mine to come home to.

then there's the emptiness left from my grandpa muddled with many unresolved feelings for him. like, the fact that i didn't like him most of the time. i did love him, i did respect him, and i did think he was a good person with a big heart.. but like him? i'm not sure. but now that he's dead, i feel like i should think he was the world's greatest grandpa, when he hardly felt like a grandpa at all (though i know he did love me).

and i feel like i'd let him down if he would stay alive for the next few years.

see, my grandpa was a very academically-oriented man. he was a professor, did work at hahvad for awhile, published over 200 papers, co-wrote over 40 books and had a passion for english literature on top of it all. he was what i think almsot every 'academic' is: a perfectionist. he could point out everything that was wrong with anything. with a mere glance. grammar, diction, functions, problems, everything.

but he liked my writing.

he liked it so much that he wanted me to put together, and edit, an autobiography he had started when i was 16. me.

and now? yeah, i'm finishing my degree, but what have i really done? other than a year of 'goodtimes' and self-destruction in england and some crappy diary entries, not a whole lot. no professor has singled me out as someone with talent, someone who can go somewhere, someone with ambition. i don't think anyone has singled me out as much of anything.

i've let him down and i feel like i've misled him into thinking i'm something much greater and better than what i really am.

and i'm lonely. i haven't really tired of my cousin's company, but i get lonely when i have no time on my own. and with 8 people in the house (relatives over for the funeral), it's hard to have any time on my own. and feel like i have to do everything with my cousin. have to invite her everywhere. i don't generally have a problem with this because she's great, but it would just be nice to not have that obligation hanging over my head.

and britboy. god. my head's a puzzle of confusion and anger and loneliness; britboy's just a little piece, but it seems like he's a large, skinny piece that extends across the middle puzzle. when something is wrong with that piece, it fucks up the rest of the puzzle. so, when it's dormant and just sitting there, things aren't so bad. but then i forget how easily they can tranform into a giant mess again and think it's okay for one little conversation when, really, it's not.

he, through his mere presence on my computer screen, reminds me that i'm lonely. he reminds me that i'm alone. he reminds me that i've always been single. he reminds me that people think, "hm, it's a bit worrying that she's 22 and has never had a relationship." he reminds me of everything that's wrong with me, directly or indirectly. he reminds me of everything i want to change, and either have or can't. he's a constant reminder of everything i've fucked up, everyone i've let down, everything i've given up, everything about myself that i despite. it's him. it's ingrained in him, it flows through our relationship, it diseases our conversations. and it's all related to him. all of it.

so, here i am. almost 1:30 a.m. and i'm sitting on a computer screen while my cousin sleeps in my room. nowhere to cry and just get it over with, nowhere to hide, no one to talk to because my condition is the condition of loneliness.

i thought i had stopped with this melodramatic, introspective, self-obsessed, self-pitying bullshit, but i haven't.

britboy reminded me that i'll always be me.

i'll try to make you proud, gramps. i just don't know how.

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