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Two odd things happened.

One, the people downstairs had their apartment broken into and ransacked. The guy who did it broke the window of the room right below mine and then just fucked everything up. I slept right through it; I vaguely heard loud noises but I shrugged them off, because I'm used to those guys being loud. Apparently, the place was fucked, and almost everything was taken. Some people think that the guy who did it was one of the people who used to live there. I figured that it was a personal matter, because they are known to piss others off and my car, that was right next to the window, wasn't even touched. You'd think that the criminal would be smart enough to at least break a car window, in order to make it look more random. But no, nothing was stolen from my car; not even the spare change (that actually happened about a year ago).

The people downstairs are gone now. I take it that they are scared. Well, I guess no rednecks are going to be living down there anytime soon.

The second thing caught me almost as much off-guard. My roommate told me that he didn't want to sign the lease, so we both agreed to drop it. A few days later, when I asked him to sign the drop form, he said that his friend and his girlfriend from California are going to move in here together, and that they don't like sharing a room. Essentially, he is going to stay and I am going to have to move out. That is bullshit, and he even incidentally said that he was talking to his friend about this for about a month, so obviously this was premeditated. I wasn't angry; just depressed and disappointed. I figured out that the two of us didn't quite get along anymore, but not to this extent. As a result, I've stopped reading for a while and I'm not cooking as much, although I'm still writing something right now.

I'm just so fucking stressed and paranoid. I mean, the roommate wasn't my friend, but I thought him to be better than that. You can live with someone for years and not really know them at all, I guess. I'm going to find a single bedroom apartment or a studio apartment just so that I don't even have to deal with this possibility again. I've stopped drinking beer in order to save up some money for the move. I'll probably only scrounge up roughly $200 from that, but that is better than nothing.

So yeah, I don't trust people anymore and I don't want to be friends with anyone. Although I am looking forward to moving; it would be cool to have my own apartment, all to myself. More privacy, and no one fucking bothers you. I was thinking only about a week or so ago that I do love this place, but that I could in theory live here for the rest of my life, and that fucking scared me. I don't like change, but the thought of things never changing is something I don't like even more. I don't want to live in an artificial la-la-land; I need to grow up every once in a while.

I just need to move on. But this was all because my roommate couldn't deal with his own problems, so he focused on mine. A familiar theme, both inside and outside of my private life.
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I met with one of my friends today. I hadn't seen her in a while so it was nice to talk to her, even though I was in a negative funk. I just told her how I've realized that most of the people who I thought as being my friends really weren't as great of them as I thought. Some of them have just faded away from my life, for little to no reason.

It just makes me wonder, do I attach to people too much? Do I trust them more than I should? Do I tell them a lot more than I should?

To be absolutely serious, there is really only one person in my life who knows about all the horrible stuff in my head, and still likes me (she is the friend I talked to today). I haven't told the others because I know that it would scare them away.

So in reality, I really only have one friend. But I suppose it all depends on how you would define 'friend'. Some people have a very broad, shallow definition of it; others hold it in high esteem, and only give it to a handful of people, if they do at all. I am of the former; I have no problems making "friends" or even keeping them for a while, but almost all of the friendships I have had have been very superficial and shallow. I often wonder if I am really capable of having a deep relationship with someone; honestly, I feel as if that part of me has atrophied due to being originally over-sensitive, and later on calloused and paranoid.

I really just see others as those who would be more than willing to cause me harm, or at least wouldn't care. This isn't really due to some juvenile pessimism towards humanity; that is just how they are. History has proven this.

The fact that I realize that I have a problem with really knowing who is a friend, who can be trusted, as well as that I may be forever-alone due to being a quasi-sociopath means that I am making a certain amount of progress. All I need is a solution of some sort. The problem is that I have no idea what that would be.

Maybe there is no solution, or that it is too late for one. What if this is just my way, my destiny? I don't believe in fate, however I have come to realize that I probably have the odd mindset that I have for a reason. I'm curious as to what that reason is. I still have potential to make something out of myself.

October 2017

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