Disallusioned Mentality.

I glance up at the clock. 4:40 AM, December 14th. It's been three weeks. Today is your Six year anniversary with her, and I wonder. Wonder, if you love her for her or if she's just what you're comfortable with. Wonder, if you've even ever been with anyone else, thought of anyone else, considered anyone else, probably not. Wonder, if she's the one you'll end up marrying. But most of all, wonder if you've ever even seen me. plain, unusually tall, brunette, melodramatic me. probably not. I thought about that night three weeks ago, in the back room, depressed and vunerable with someone I hardly felt anything at all for. Whispering things I didn't mean, my hands feeling all over this person I was so easily deceiving, I felt it all over again. My mind drifted off like this for hours.
My thought process was interrupted by my phone ringing. I thought about not answering it, but depending on who it was that decision could be vitally important. I rolled over to reach over to the window sill where the irratating device lay.
"What?" I said bluntly, most likely sounding tired and generally annoyed.
"Well, damn, don't get too excited to hear from me."
"Sorry."
"Where've you been hiding anyway? I haven't seen you since...the other night."
"I have to go, I'll talk to you later or something, Will."
"Em?"
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry"
"Happy anniversary." I didn't have anything more to say, and I was late for work. I hung up. I felt emotionless. Probably because I'd wasted all of the ones I had left on him.
I got up off the cold floor I'd fallen asleep on in my room after work last night. I was a struggling singer, one of those truly pathetic girls that shows up night after night at the same string of bars and clubs, hoping and praying that by some miracle she'd get her "big break", but it paid the bills.
The owner of the bar I went to pretty regularly had a thing for me, so until I got a music gig, he gave me a bar-tending job. And I know what you're thinking, I do NOT work at coyote ugly or dance on bartops like coyote ugly.
I had to be behind the counter at 7. It was 6:43. I hurridly pulled on my wrinkled jeans, and work t-shirt, grabbed my keys and hit the door. Work would be good for me. I want to be busy. I want to forget even just for a few hours. I am a numb human being, living with no feeling or meaning. Most people consider ignoring a problem a step back; I generally don't agree with "most people".