The events of the past 24 hours

Yesterday, pretty much exactly 24 hours ago, I broke my rule of having as little human contact as possible, and went to a friend's place to grill with a few other people (we were six, including me).
I generally follow a code of taking the socially passive role. I never take the initiative, and I let old relations die out if the other party does not take action. This is to avoid needlessly furthering my interaction with other people, and thus ending up in some crappy situation with lots of annoying obligations. Generally, I don't believe humans can interact smoothly with each other, and if there's something I absolutely cannot accept, it is others suffering because of me. So, this seems to be the best solution to the hedgehog's dilemma that I find myself in.

Anyway, yesterday I'd gotten a call from the closest thing I have to a friend, asking me to come to this grill/catch-up event, and I accepted because - why the fuck not. My friend would prolly be sad if I didn't, and that would kind of defeat the purpose of the passive role I've assumed. I dutifully got on the train, and pretty much instantly detected the smell of annoying little wankers. There were four of them as far as I could tell, and they were in their teens. Annoying as that is in itself, it was only a small part of what made me hate them increasingly each second from the moment I saw them to the moment I left the train. Caring about nothing but making themselves look cool, they do everything in their power to increase their standing in the eyes of their friends. This includes being noisy as hell while running about inside the train, bothering all the other passengers, pretending to be more drunk/high than they really are, and talking about stuff they think improves others' impression of them. Like fucking and drinking. And fucking.

I'm telling you folks, the mannerism is all that matters to those god damned lowlifes. And it's essentially destructive to human interaction as a whole because those superficial, self-promoting aspects are becoming the norm in all sorts of social dealings. God dammit. This is why I hate being with people; Because all they care about is how others perceive them, and anything they do is designed to make themselves look better. Everything is such a stupid, laughable farce. And I don't want any, thank you very much.

Okay, so I got off the train and took the bus. It being Friday night, the train is obviously not the only place where you'll encounter drunk (or pretending to the drunk) assholes, who are on their way to some lame ass party or pub. This time around, one of the loud-mouthed motherfuckers actually addressed me for reasons unknown. She inquired about my name and reasons for traveling with the bus. I have no idea why that was important, but I decided to lie in her face just because I could. I told her my name was Michael, and that I was heading home. She seemed almost insulted that I would be heading home on a Friday night, because obviously it's every young person's god damned duty to venture out into the city and get piss drunk and be a fucking menace to society every weekend. She then asked, rather incredulously, how old I was.

Now I don´t know if this bitch was actually as drunk as she appeared, but her perception skills were, in any case, not very good, for I had no problem convincing her that I was 16 years old, despite being almost 21. Either that or I actually look like a representative of the age group that I loathe the most. In which case I'll go kill myself. Anyway, that seems to have gotten me off the hook, since being 16 years old apparently relieves you of the duty of getting drunk and behaving like a supreme retard every Friday night. This particular drunken troupe then left the bus, and I arrived at my destination shortly thereafter without further incident.

Now I must admit that I do play along with the big farce that socialization constitutes when I am with my friends. Thing is, at such times I always feel like my mind splits up into two separate personalities; One that's running around on a stage, trying to satisfy every one's expectations, and another guy who sits in the corner and laughs at how ridiculous it all is. The guy on the stage is in control of my body, but he can't help but be affected by the mocking laughter coming from the guy in the corner. There are a lot of stupid things that seem almost mandatory when such events take place... For example the need to drink. It's simply not possible to be with your friends at an occasion such as this without drinking, apparently. It's almost like you need to be tipsy just to have a conversation with the people you're supposed to be friends with. This purpose seems defeated, though, by the second thing that is mandatory during these socialization events: The music. It has to be so loud that conversation is impossible, safe for yelling your lungs out to the person sitting next to you.

I have, on rare occasion, gone drinking at a pub, where this loud music is part of the sickening mating ritual that young people in my country play out every weekend. This I can somewhat understand. Even though I disagree fiercely, it makes sense that you'd want the music the be so loud that you can't hear all the stupid things people might have to say before you bone them and leave the morning after. But for it to be transferred to a private catch-up event with only six people present is just beyond imbecilic. I couldn't even fucking talk to them, for crying out loud! There was no room for me in the couch where my friends sat, sticking their faces close together in order to communicate. I sat across the table, looking like a moron, and wondering just how the fuck that horrible noise that was raping my eardrums could be called music. I'm sure it would've been easier to tell the different tones apart if there hadn't been a steady stream of blood and brain matter running from my ears.

After a few hours of this joyful reunion, I decided to take my leave. I found it prudent, since another one had already left at that point, so I wouldn't be the first one to go. Plus, the others were planning on going to a pub later, and I really didn't want any of that. I caught the last train and got the hell away from there as fast as I possibly could. After about half an hour of listening to more little bastards pretending to be incoherently drunk, I finally got off at the station and thoroughly enjoyed the peaceful walk back to my house. I closed the door, dropped myself into the most comfortable chair I could find, and took a deep breath of relief... Only to find that my clothes smelled like a god damned ash tray with puke in it.

This somehow always happens when you've been out drinking, and is just another part of the reason why I loathe everything about such events. I do not find it enjoyable, which leads me to believe that I'm just fundamentally different from everybody else, who seems to enjoy going to town and getting pissed and fucking some random guy or girl whose name they couldn't hear because the music was too fucking loud.

I don't get it. I just don't get it, folks.