My White Dress

I don't know where to start with this one, but I have a lot to say.
Fast forward through the half day which seemed just as long as a normal one if not longer, and we'll begin at Subway.
Random, wasn't supposed to happen. But then I was dropped off at a friends, which was planned, and therefore not random. This was not very happy-making. In fact, it only confirmed my accusations from yesterday, about that whole losing important people thing. Losing is the operative term, and I'm changing it to lost, and I'm pretty sure that's where it will stay. But I won't think about that too much because I rather not be exponentially upset as opposed to currently upset. Moving on, after about an hour or two I had no choice but to walk home, which didn't fair well with me, the Santa Ana winds, or my white dress.
But then I had an epiphany of sorts. Not one of those epiphanies you have when you're really down and out or when you're in a slump that completley bring you back to optimism and love and birds chirping and hand holding and such optimistic things, but rather the kind that sink you lower and deeper into that depression you're just barely skimming until you're grasping for the surface.
Firstly, I called a friend who happened to be with some other friends whom I very much did not want to be around, and asked if they could come pick me up, but the car was full, with said people whom I did not want to be around.
And in response to my grumbling, said friend replied with
"Sorry that we're all hanging out and you didn't want to."
I'm quite shocked that people are not realizing/understanding/respecting the fact that I have had enough with said people and clearly want nothing to do with them. Next.
I continued my trek home, on Moorpark road no less, and started noticing acute details on all the peoples faces who turned to look at me, and I almost started crying. I wanted to ask all those people, people in the drivers seat, the passenger seat, the back seats, if they had ever had a bad day, if they had a family, if they wanted all the other people in this town staring at someone they loved walking down the road. And I feel kind of stupid saying that now, but that's just what I felt, even though it doesn't really make sense.
About ten minutes after that, I saw what I think was a hunchback, not much younger than me, riding his bike a little ways down from my house. He was wearing a green t-shirt, and it looked like he was just wearing shoulder pads and nothing else. He rode right by me, and when I turned around to get a better look at him, he was perched on his bike at the turn, staring right back at me. I don't know what to think of that. I don't know if he expected me to turn and stare, or if he simply thought I was strange and turned to get a better look himself.
As I walked up my driveway I felt like that hunchback though, I felt heavy and weighted and deformed and simply unhappy.


That's all.