At the movies

Today I went to the movies, alone. That's not very unusual for me. It's very clear that I possess a very anti social, avoidant personality. While I outwardly am desperate for attention, innately, subconsciously, I want nothing to do with other people. I'd much rather sit by myself at a meal than try to stumble through awkward conversation with a person who is perhaps a step removed from being a total stranger to me. I'm sure you can tell I'm an absolute joy to sit down and talk to.

While standing on line, alone, at the movies, I saw some people I knew from high school. I caught them coming out of the corner of my eye, and I quickly turned my head down and away from them. I silently thanked that I hadn't shaved in several days, and took out my phone in a self absorbed attempt to look like I was in touch with people already in the movie theater. By some stupid chance, they got in line right behind me. I hear them whisper and giggle to each other, enjoying some private joke. I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed that I wasn't the butt of some high school anecdote. I shuffled up to the ticket window, purchased my ticket, and hauled ass right out of the lobby.

Walking into the theater, I scanned for a place to sit, with at least one empty seat on either side of where I wanted to sit. Such is the awkward part of going to the movies alone. You don't want to sit directly next to someone, as doing so invades upon the atmosphere of intimacy that movies create. In this world of text messaging in iPods, it has become a social faux pas to speak to a total stranger, to interject yourself into someone's little world. This has seeped into every facet of life to the point where it's impossible to meet new people.

As I tried to find a seat, my eyes latched upon a group of people. This was a group of people who graduated high school with me. I cursed myself under my breath. Of course these people would be here, home for Thanksgiving, bored to tears until they could catch flights back to whatever school they found themselves attending. I quickly found a seat on the end of a row, ducked my head down and tried to make myself as invisible as I possibly could.

I hated high school with every fiber of my being. Every moment I spent in that building was a smothering, suffocating experience. I can hardly recall a handful of pleasant moments I experienced within those four years. And yet, the entire world treats those years with such reverence that I can't help but feel an enormous amount of cognitive dissonance when remembering high school, and actually convincing myself that I in fact loved high school, and missed the same people who made my life miserable, and shaped the bitterness I still feel to this day.

Next time I want to see a movie, I'm going to another state.