An Unsociable Loner.

Since when did sixteen-year-olds smoke cigarettes and bongs, and get tattoos; and thirteen-year-olds get so drunk they piss themselves?
Since now, I guess.
Why do I feel WEIRD and DIFFERENT when I say, "I don't want to be a part of this."
Why does that make me feel unsociable? I feel like I should like this stuff, but I don't.
I really don't.


1. An Unsociable Loner

Since when did sixteen-year-olds smoke cigarettes and bongs, and get tattoos; and thirteen-year-olds get so drunk they piss themselves?

Since now, I guess.  

I stayed over at a friend’s place the other day with a few other girls I sit with at school. One of my friends moved away to another town, but she came back for the week in the school holidays, and she was invited to the sleep-over as well. We were all so excited to see her.

I was surprised at the amount of absolute crap that happened in the two nights I was there.

I thought I knew these people, but it turns out, I really don’t.

I thought people were better that this; but it turns out they really aren’t.

I thought society in general was made up of better people than this, but it turns out it really isn’t.

I thought, I thought, I thought. You see, the problem with all the above sentences is they all start with ‘I thought.’ Society has just stopped thinking. All our brain cells have died from the drugs (prescription or illegal, chemicals don’t discriminate) and alcohol (seriously, fermented grapes and rotted potato starch? No wonder you feel sick after drinking it), not to mention all the stuff we feed ourselves (it doesn’t deserve to be called food. Try saying deoxymethylinebutylphanalanaline. No? If you can’t pronounce it, it can’t be good for you).

Anyway, back to the point. I was at this friend’s house. I can’t really name names, and I don’t want to make up names, so try and follow along as best you can. So, there was: me, the friend, the friend-who-moved-away-and-came-back and the not-so-smart friend. Oh, and the first night, there was another girl (the good-girl), but she didn’t want to stay another night. I think my friend’s house scared her, because it was the first time she stayed over, and trust me; this house takes some getting used to. And, all this crazy shit didn’t happen until the second night anyway.

Wait, can I just go off on a little side-note for a second? See how, in that paragraph above I said, ‘this house takes some getting used to’? Well, I’ve stayed over at this friend’s house plenty of times, and just then I wondered how it could go from ‘how it was’ (eating chocolate, watching chick-flicks and staying up all night talking) to ‘how it is now’ (eating lollies, chocolate and then ice-cream, then saying ‘mm, not too much’ to the cooked dinner. Watching a movie halfway; then sneaking out to have a smoke, then staying up all night watching a thirteen-year-old stagger around drunk). If you ask me, (yes, we’re asking me) it really sucks.

Okay, now back to the point. No more side-notes (that’s probably a lie, just so you know). Anyway, back to my friend’s hectic house. Friend-who-moved-away-and-came-back has arrived, and the friend and I have squealed and hugged and all that. Not-so-smart friend arrived later (because she actually lives next door to the friend), and we hugged her too. Just to let you know, there are other people in the house. There’s the friend’s family: mum, dad, older sister, younger sister, and younger brother. And there’s also the younger sister’s friend and the older sister’s friend too.

Well, shit doesn’t get chaotic until later. We pick (yes I say ‘pick,’ because we filled up on hot chips) at a (lovely) dinner made by the friend’s mum, then friend’s mum and dad retire to their lounge room, and we stay in the ‘kids’ lounge room.

Older sister and her friend start drinking vodka. Originally the bottle was full, but when they come and tell us when they’re going ‘out,’ the bottle is almost empty. Then they get in the car and drive (dangerously) away. Younger sister, younger sister’s friend and younger brother commandeer older sister’s room.

The friend, the friend-who-moved-away-and-came-back, the not-so-smart friend and me put on a move and all sit down to watch it. Instead we end up talking about how great the friend-who-moved-away-and-came-back’s life is. She has a boyfriend. Her step-dad got thrown in jail because the police found his pot plantation. She smokes (that’s why she’s now so skinny) cigarettes and weed. She eats junk-food for breakfast, lunch and dinner. She wears heaps of make-up that she doesn’t need, (because she’s actually really pretty, beyond the half a bottle of foundation) and gets stoned pretty much daily with her boyfriend and new best friend.

Then, the friend and the friend-who-moved-away-and-came-back sneak out of the friend’s room for a smoke. I didn’t even know the friend smoked (and younger sister’s friend joined them. I didn’t know she smoked either). The not-so-smart friend and I stayed and watched the movie for a bit, until I went and got a drink in the kitchen. Then I went into the older sister’s room (still commandeered by younger sister and younger brother) because right about then, I was realising I didn’t really like the direction this night was taking. I was hoping, all the way in older sister’s room, things would be different. I see that younger sister and younger brother are drinking wine they found in older sister’s cupboard. Well, younger sister is pretending to drink (younger sister’s friend still smoking), and younger brother (innocent of this deception) is actually drinking.

By the time the friend, the friend-who-moved-away-and-came-back, and younger sister’s friend come back in, the movie has finished and the not-so-smart friend has put on another movie. By this time, younger brother is drunk. Younger sister’s friend joins the drinking.

By the time the second movie is halfway, the not-so-smart friend is watching her phone and not the movie. The friend and the friend-who-moved-away-and-came-back are engaged in a (not that deep and meaningful) conversation. Younger brother is well and truly smashed, and younger sister’s friend is not far behind him. Younger sister has her phone out and is recording younger brother trying to walk in a straight line.

It’s past twelve o’clock. The parents are in bed, sleeping.

It doesn’t look like older sister and her friend will be coming home any time soon.

Not-so-smart friend has gone to sleep, but soon wakes up with all the noise that’s being made.

Younger brother has locked himself in the toilet, and younger sister’s friend is tapping on the door, trying to coax him out (unsuccessfully). The friend and the friend-who-moved-away-and-came-back are laughing (really hard), and the younger sister is still recording (with twenty percent battery).

Younger brother finally comes out, and he’s fine, so the (small) crowd disperses. We put on another movie. Then we are alerted by younger sister and her friend. They are laughing. Younger brother has pissed himself and is rubbing his bum along the carpet like a dog. At least younger sister has stopped recording.

The friend finally takes (semi) charge and orders younger brother into the shower. He complies with a dull grin. Then the friend and the friend-who-moved-away-and-came-back sneak off for another smoke. Younger sister’s friend doesn’t join them this time.

After younger brother gets out of the shower, younger sister’s friend tries to put him to bed, but he won’t stay there. He keeps on stumbling down the hall. Who knows what is going through his alcohol-clouded mind. Younger sister’s friend is trying not to laugh, but isn’t really succeeding.

After all this shit, younger sister and younger sister’s friend sleep in older sister’s bed. Older sister still hasn’t come home, and it is now obvious that she won’t. The friend (finally) gets her act together and drags some mattresses out into the lounge room, where we all fall asleep.

I wake up at seven in the morning.

The friend, the friend-who-moved-away-and-came-back and the not-so-smart friend all wake up at about ten thirty. The friend and the friend-who-moved-away-and-came-back go into the kitchen and cook breakfast for themselves. The not-so-smart friend is texting someone on her phone. I’m reading the book I’ve read for the past three hours while I was waiting for the others to wake up. I’m almost finished. Then younger sister and younger sister’s friend come in and say they’re ‘going down to the shop’ to get some breakfast.

I end up having deep-fried chicken for breakfast.

The friend, the friend-who-moved-away-and-came-back, the not-so-smart friend and I watch movies for the rest on the day, take selfies and eat more junk-food. When the friend, the friend-who-moved-away-and-came-back and the not-so-smart friend start to ignore me (partly my own fault, I admit. I’m not really that sociable, though) I go into older sister’s room again, where younger sister, younger sister’s friend and older sister (now back from her night at the pub) are shopping online. I talk to them (it’s better than talking to my ‘friends’). In the kitchen, younger brother is sitting at the table (sipping a milkshake younger sister got for him), telling his friend how his stomach is slightly unsettled and he has a splitting headache.

When did things like this become normality?

When did your friends sprawl on the front veranda, smoking (hiding their cigarettes from passing cars) and talking about who it’s best to buy weed off of in town. When did talking to your friend’s siblings become better than talking to your friends? When did everything start having a (sexually-related) double meaning? When did sleepovers like this become so meaningless?

Was there some point in time when all this started to happen? Do you think you could draw up a timeline, marking in what order these things started to happen. And there you go; I make the same mistake again. In the second sentence of his paragraph, I used the word ‘think.’ Big mistake. Because you’re not supposed to think anymore. No one else does, and you’re supposed to follow the trends. Except, it’s not just a trend.

It’s ever-lasting.


And finally, after one huge side-note (a.k.a, this entire story), we get to the point.

Does this make me a sociopath? Because, that whole sleepover, I was thinking about how much people change. For better, and for worse (but usually for worse). And I was thinking (that silly word again!) that I really don’t like people.

Does this make me apathetic? Uncaring? Unwanting, uninvolved, detached?

A crazy, weird, aloof, room-with-no-people-in-it-seeking, want-my-own-company, don’t-touch-me, really strange indifferent human being?

If so, let me just say; I’m proud to be one.

I would much rather be one of ‘them’ than be one of the multitude of people that just repeat the word ‘us.’ Whatever. Call me whatever you want. Callous, distant, haughty, cold, up-myself, loner.

So, I’m. It’s very (not really) nice to meet you.

No, you can’t know my name. Unsociable, remember?

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