Last night I lied to someone about what I’ve been doing with my life. I’ve written about 10 pages of a book. When I first came up with the concept for the novel, I was typing away and then something happened; I got bored. I thought to myself, “If you’re bored writing it, then who the fuck would want to read it.” I’ve always done that though. I’ve had creative ideas that I get bored with and give them up as quickly as they came.
The same thing will probably happen with this blog. I don’t want it to, but why continue something when you’re bored of it.
So last night my ex-boyfriends roommate called to catch up. He told me that he missed having me around and to be honest, yeah I miss it too. Of course I do, but the last thing I said to my ex was that I hated him and that he was an asshole. I can’t really take those things back, mainly because it was the truth. I listened and listen to him incessantly bitch about work, but he couldn’t remember the simplest things about my life. I’m surprised he even remembered my birthday.
His roommate asked me what I’ve been up to and I told him I had 50 pages of my book completed. I also told him about how great I’ve been and I guess it was just to save face. I’d like to think that everyone has been in that situation. Especially because I don’t want my ex to know that I don’t really know what that next step is.
Everyone is always so confident about their lives. Are we all just trying to save face? Maybe we’re all equally as confused and just don’t want to admit it to the world.