I'm Not Enjoying This

First Chapter

It only makes sense that I begin my day with a nice little break-up.

Let me rephrase that: I'll begin my new life with a nice little break-up, in the words of my roommate. He said I'm going to feel some kind of relief after a few days. If by relief he meant the "f**k you too" attitude that most of us get when we undeniably aren't over our ex-girlfriends, he was correct.

Anna dumped me literally five hours ago, which was, oh, around three-fifteen in the morning? Meaning that in record time, Jackson was able to squeeze in his reassuring speech before three-thirty. I know this because I was crying at three-thirty. The guy has a talent I tell you. So does Anna.

Jackson's talent is a bit obvious, the fact that he can annoy me with mediocre advice while simultaneously studying for his mathematical biology final. Anna's is more complex. She can treat me like total s**t, and still cause me to believe it's for my own good.

Now that I'm lying on my stiff twin bed, underneath my heavy covers, beside my misfortune, I realize not only is it time for me to get ready for class, but that my new life is really starting to suck. Especially because it's not supposed to be like this.

The whole "new life" mess didn't actually start with Anna dumping me in the middle of us watching reruns in her dorm room. It actually began with my new journal.

It wasn't my choice. It's a project that was assigned by my anthropology professor. First, we're going to write in our journals for a month. It doesn't have to be chronological, it doesn't have to be narrative, it doesn't have too many rules. Hell, it doesn't even fully have to be in words. We just have to keep a journal that "embodies us" and make sure it's anonymous, meaning names have to change. Afterward, we'll swap our journals with a randomly-selected classmate, where we will then analyze each others' habits, personalities, goals...and some other bombastic bullshit.

My pen name is Corwin B.

The first thing I wrote about was my girlfriend Harriett. We finally had sex for the second time, and this was before she told me she was in the middle of her period. I then went on to describe my disgust towards the situation, and how s****y I was that I had to help her do her laundry when we finished. The fact that when I showered, it looked like my dick went out and committed a murder.

Anyway, if I hadn't ranted about Harriett in my journal, it would have bothered me to this day. It still does, don't get me wrong, but not as much as it should. Jackson, who knew all about the incident, saw this solace that swept over me when I wrote and decided that a new life was starting. One where I'd stop holding everything in and begin to express myself. Something like that.

Last night, I left my night class and went straight to Anna's room. She wanted me to watch a few episodes from her season II disc set of Seinfeld.

By the way, I hate Seinfeld. I've always hated Seinfeld. She wouldn't know that, though.

Because I'm a genius, my journal was buried in the bottom of my bag. While Seinfeld's friend Elaine screamed about soup on the television screen, Anna reached into my bag for the usual cigarette and came across my journal. Before my eyes, Anna my Girlfriend became Harriett the B***h; and because Anna is a genius as well, it didn't take much to figure out she was Harriett. That's when she dumped me.

I began my journal with exhilaration. I was eager to let out my thoughts on paper and in turn see all of the strange s**t that goes on in someone else's head.

Now I blink at it with irritation.