sometimes, there are moments when i am so painfully aware of my loneliness. like when i continue to prolong the day into the late nite hours, leaving the tv on for fear of sitting by myself in silence. and then again, in that moment every nite when i'm getting ready for bed--i walk through my apartment, turning off the lights until i'm left in the dark with only the sound of my feet and the faint humming of the fridge. right before i close my eyes, i often wonder if the very purposeful over-scheduling i do in my life--with work and classes and volunteering and social engagements--is really just a way to shield myself from the truth of being alone.
it's been a tough few months for me. i hate writing about it so publicly, but there is nowhere else for me to put it. and it's not like there is something in particular for me to feel upset about--it is after all, the time of thanksgiving. and i certainly have much to be thankful for. but it doesn't erase those times of severe stress, where i feel so much pressure to perform at work at school at life-- that i'll just burst into tears for no reason at the dinner table or snap at my parents or my friends because i know no other way to act. i go through this cycle of guilt that i'm not doing enough to live up to my own expectations as a person as a daughter as a friend and then i come home to an empty apartment and have no one to share this guilt with.
when i first moved into my own place, it was a feeling of unbridled joy. i treasured the freedom and space to live as i wished-- so what if i have yet to decorate it to my true liking? or that sometimes, i want to leave dishes in the sink for an extra day? it is my place, and i could do what i want. it was a symbol of my rise to adulthood and independence. but as the years trot on and i've aged further into my twenties, the euphoria of single living is slowly wearing away.
i know that i can do a lot of things on my own and even achieve some semblance of contentment. but the truth is, i don't want it to be that way. and it's not because i'm an extrovert or that i'm co-dependent or desperate for a relationship. it's because i really do long for that connection with others, that assurance that my presence actually matters to someone. and although some will be quick to say--'why of course you matter.' i am not an idiot. anyone can qualify as an afterthought. we are all self-absorbed people with a limited amount of love and empathy to share. and therein lies my problem: i feel like i haven't been able to share anything remotely deep with anyone lately. and i've used the excuse of time as the reason, but really its my own sheer avoidance. it's as if exposing to others all of the issues causing me dissatisfaction will only reveal a hard, cold fact: that no one really cares but me. a thought like that is better left alone by itself.