Stream of thoughts

I had an idea for what I wanted to write today, but I decided not to right now. So I'm just going to start writing. I have NO idea where this will go, and I may get into what I wanted to write anyway, but I'm just going to write. Buckle up.

I'm sitting at work staring at this screen and I have absolutely no desire to work. Why am I still here? I don't know. I get paid pretty well, that might have something to do with it. It's easy, cause I don't work half the time anyway. I think this place is draining me out. It never changes, and my boss doesn't either. I miss working with females. I've never got along famously with guys and I've always been able to relate to my girl friends (meaning friends that are girls). I miss being around girls in general, let alone people. I have such a small social life, it's barely existant, and I want that to change but I'm nervous to go out there and try to make it change. I'm way out of my comfort zone around people my age, I just can't seem to get on a similar wavelength with anyone. I like to use the excuse of not having much time for friends, and in some cases that is true, but in others, it's still just an excuse. Where do I go? There's no shopping center for finding friends. Library? People are reading and working on the internet and such. Starbucks or a coffee house? People are usually working on laptops or talking with a friend. Bars? Not my dish. Clubs? Hate them with a passion. Should I just walk down the street and start saying hi to people? Just sit on the corner with a sign saying "Come talk to me." That doesn't shout desperation at all. Is that where I am? Have I become desperate to meet people? I think I'm getting to that point.
It's such a delicate balance that I haven't quite mastered yet. I like my own space and time, but the amount and when I need it can change so quickly that it's often unpredictable. Just like when I'm happy, which I have been a lot lately, and I sometimes want to be depressed instead. (Don't ask) And when I get my masochistic wish, I often become impartial to the things that make me happy. Then insecurities burrow their way in and toy with me. What if I'm not a good enough writer to make it? What if I'm stuck toiling away at my writing projects for years and it's all for not? What if I get married and I'm still doing these "non-career" jobs instead of settling in to something? What if she has faith in my ability and drive to become a writer and I let myself down, and more painfully, her too? What if I keep going down this road and become a hermit at 29 years old, alone and too scared to remedy it? Part of me as a man is ashamed to be like this and embarrassed to be sharing it as well. I don't want people looking this far into me. Why can't I just be a man and suck it up and go for it, carpe diem or something right? Take a deep breath and walk tall. A man isn't supposed to be like this. A 23 year old isn't supposed to be like this. These are apparantly the highlight years here, the best years of my life, yadda yadda yadda. That's what I keep hearing. Instead of highlight years, I'm sitting at this desk, staring at the computer screen in a disgraceful excuse for a showroom, with a sad excuse for a boss, counting down the hours until I leave, and then muting my sadness and loneliness with video games and movies at home. Highlight my ass, this is pathetic.