I was thinking today about the wastefulness in speech and writing. This is my 329th post in six and a half months, and how much have I really said? Think about it--think about how much you talk, how much you write. Think about how much you chatter. Have you really said anything?

I have grown more talkative in my old age, and by "old age," I pretty much mean "in the last year." From about third grade to the beginning of junior year, I never really said much. Consequently, when I did talk, people tended to take me much more seriously. Now nobody ever listens--it's just Allison going off again.

The increase in my chattiness is nice in some ways. I meet more people; I have more options. But you know what? They don't stick around. Of all the people I've met in the last three months or so (30+, I'd wager), there are maybe two or three who have stuck around. And the ones that did stay weren't the ones I thought would. I didn't expect all the acquaintances to last; whether it was distance or a simple lack of common concerns, most seemed rather trivial. But the ones I expected to be around...they're not. And I didn't do the leaving. I never do the leaving. I'm always the one being left.

Hey, friends: I miss you.

The incessant chatter on my part has also created much more laughter. I make people laugh often, and I laugh, too. But eventually it hollows out. You start realizing that you're laughing at your own jokes because no one else is. The stuff that makes them laugh? It's all trite, easy, predictable humor. There's no invention in it; it's all a matter of taking a sardonic shot or creating a cheap catchphrase. The stuff that makes me laugh, the stuff I like? It's all so obscure and thought-out that the only place it's still funny is in my own head. And that just annoys people. And maybe that's why they keep leaving.

Yeah, I've got a clique now. I've got a regular spot at the lunch table, I've got people who want to hear my stories. I've got people who never liked me before asking me for advice. I've got people who never would have paid attention to me giving me their cell phone numbers. I've got places to go on the weekends, I've got people to run into at Wal-Mart and Hy-Vee. I've got people all around me. I've got people.

So why am I still alone? Why is no one ever home when I call? Why doesn't the phone ring, why is the inbox invariably empty? Why am I the leftover when we partner up in class? I'm still by myself. I've made a ton of acquaintances in the last few months, but not a single one of them has really become a friend. And in the process of making those acquaintances, I lost some of my old friends.

I've known Cal for eleven years. She was my best friend for the longest time; maybe we didn't always get along, but at the end of the day, we were there. She's barely spoken to me since the Chicago trip, and she won't tell me why. She insists she's not angry with me, but the loyalties have shifted.

Yes, I'm still lonely. I've done the best I know how. I, the Shy Kid, have Gone Out, Met People, Gotten Numbers, Made Acquaintances, and still, nothing's changed. I have tried my hardest to alter the situation, and nothing has come of it. I really expected it to. I tried my best to be a catalyst, to be the person that Makes Things Happen. But nothing ever changes.

So...anyway, wastefulness. I'm so long-winded...couldn't this whole guilt-trip have been summed up with "I'm kinda lonely right now"? I've gone and broken my own new rule. That didn't take long.

You should choose your words carefully, and you should keep it concise. Shut up and seize the day, 'cos tomorrow you might be dead. Which brings me to the single thought that started this entire spiel: No matter what you tell your friends, yourself, the world...say it like it's the last thing you'll ever utter.

And that's it. May you always remain Bright Young Things.