I'm really tired. Aren't you? Well, I am.

Shh... I'm supposed to be in a PDP class right now.  I've rationalized my absence because I haven't missed a single class since the start of the semester and I'm beyond overwhelmed with myself and my academics.

I just don't want human interaction today.  In fact, I need some "me" time and some time to breathe, especially since I haven't been myself lately.

Most of the guys who take an interest in talking to me have ulterior motives; they have an attraction to me, and so they take on the most translucent "friend" facade ever in order to get my attention, time and eventual affection.  In the recent past I've come to understand that these boys, the ones who like me, are the ones who end up hating me because I won't relent.  There's nothing I can do about that.  I don't just want to be single, I need to be single.  I have to focus on myself, on both my flaws and my ambitions in order to be happy.  And right now, I'm not happy because my heart has been turned into stone.

This is not to say that my heart has been broken, because only a man could break something as strong as my spirit and soul.  Rather, my metaphorical innards have been hardened into something among the lines of tough, chewy squid.  Oh, what an analogy.  With each passing jerk, I have become more resilient.  I have yet to catch a break and now I have hard, chewy innards.  Great.

It is often said that college males are mature.  And yet, I find myself swimming in a sea of... boys.  Boys?  Jerks?  Assholes? I don't know.  After all, these terms seem very interchangeable to me now.

I often catch myself wishing that I could go back to my unattractive days.  If you've known me in the past five years, hell.. if you've known me in the past year, you'd know what I'm talking about.  My chubby body, unrefined facial features and "nice personality" days.  I didn't have this type of trouble back then.  I found that guys actually wanted to be my friend and actually valued my input, probably because I didn't look good enough to be more than a friend.  Maybe this is why I've been binging on chocolates and desserts.  I could be like those post-traumatized rape victims, eating their way into oblivion, subconsciously morphing their bodies into something that male predators would not find worth pursuing.  Instead of a being a rape victim, I'd be more like a victim of emotional abuse.

Call me what you will. "Cold as ice". Jaded. Whatever. I may very well be a heterosexual, non-feminist boy hater.

I am doing well.

But sometimes I get drowned in my past.