I've come to the conclusion that my day never starts when I wake up. It doesn't start when I get up, either, nor does it start on the bike on the way to the bus, or on the bus on the way to school, and it doesn't start when I arrive at school. My day doesn't start until I come home from school, that's when I can put my will back into the picture, in the late afternoon. That's the way it is.

I don't live when I'm at school. I just am. I act like a skilled robot which systematically drags itself through the endless hours emotionlessly. I don't mind school. I don't mind learning. I don't mind homework.

I fucking hate the deficiency of time.

Days are too short. My days are too short. I can't fit everything in I want to fit in. There's always something that gets dismissed or even forgotten unintentionally. There's always something that I have to catch up with later, however much I've already done in advance.

Don't give me any bollocks, it's not my planning. There is no time for relaxation, in combination with enough violin, homework, a voluntary read for pastime, plain computer or internet amusement, nutrition, daily housework necessities, proper care for and nursing of myself, and occasional social contacts...

It is so mercilessly unsatisfying.
It is so deranging.
It is so inhumanly soul-killing.

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The way Y. and I are treating each other is killing me. I want the friendship back. I want what is impossible. I want what is in contradiction with what I know is for the best.
I hate the act Y. is putting on during the so-called day at school, his superficial way of communicating with anybody, how ever high or low their social status (fuck social statuses anyway).
I hate the way I cease to comprehend how to react to him, I hate the way I bluntly ignore him whenever he either carefully or carelessly attempts an approach.

I hate. I shrink. I cringe. I shrivel. I flinch. I suffer. I diminish. I ache. I endure.

There is nobody, absolutely nobody, of who I can say, in full certainty, that I share a mutual friendship with them. In fact, I doubt that any of the few people that I consider a (potential) friend of mine will call me a friend too. It's saddening.

I'm not alone.
Yet I feel it.
I don't feel alone.
Yet I am.

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I feel so