Max Vol

I am cold and dead inside. But at least I am clever. And at last I’m starting to actually understand finance. Though the counter to that is maybe realizing that what I’m doing now isn’t what I want to continue to be doing. But that’s something to tackle after the test. I’ve been making progress on studying, and apparently being able to focus for an entire Saturday and get through half a book is not a normal occurrence according to my other analysts. I’ve noticed that whenever I’m in the office, I’m always inordinately hungry. Constantly. And yet when I’m at home, I sometimes don’t even begin to feel the hunger until after lunch. I can’t figure out why. It’s because food is free there and you little bundle of anxiety can’t help but stress eat.

There doesn’t seem to be any constancy in my mind. Every morning I wake up I am somehow different. And though I know other’s can’t see it, I can feel it. I need to write more. In the moment. Because now as I recount “my” life, I don’t understand her. I don’t recognize her at all. Then again, if I wrote down everything, I think I would come off insane. More insane. Isn’t everyone though? On Thursday, I got dinner with Puma and Vlad and group at Flor de Mayo, where we all just caught up about mostly Vlad’s ridiculous life. Here’s to hoping he gets to come to New York soon. On Friday, I had promised to go out but didn’t. And on Saturday, I got lunch with boy at Cafe Fiorello. And at the time I remember thinking that everything with him was like out of a movie. We met by the plaza of Lincoln Square and he walked out in a blue suit and glasses and I felt my brain decide to up and exit out of my body. We got a table outside, right beside the man playing guitar and surrounded by flowers. That day I was smitten. I got home and watched Moulin Rouge because my brain decided not to return until hours later. On Sunday, I studied with Puma for a very productive time and it was so nice to be with friends for a day. And afterwards I snuck up to Harlem because that night was the first time a boy has cooked dinner for me. It was fine. And we danced some more and to my surprise I found the mattress on the floor rather charming.

Monday morning I was still a little obsessed with him as I sat in a four hour meeting. And with each hour I felt reality pulling me back. And then came the guilt and the sadness. Because he does not fit into what I imagined my life would be like. He’ll be a musician in a dying classical world. And he is poor. You are awful. I know that. Don’t you think I know that? And when we didn’t talk that night I told myself it was for the best even though I did kind of like him. And yesterday, I let him come over because I still smile when I see that he texts, even if it’s fucking bizarre. And it was fine. And this morning I woke up and just wanted him to leave. And I felt nothing. And I don’t know why. And right now I’ve decided that I’d never actually be a thing with him, even though I want to go see Ms. Tanaka on the 10th, even though I still want him around to dance with. And I am a terrible person. He is sweet and kind and seems to really, really like me. He is so many of the things you’d think a girl would want in a guy and yet, for the first time in my life I can’t be bothered. Is my brain going haywire? Have I experienced at last some character development? All I know is my mother will be pleased. Even though I’m not sure how long this mindset will last. Past performance doesn’t necessarily predict future results, I hate you, but if my feelings can swing so widely so quickly, I wonder when I’ll change my mind again.