I feel like I’m totally alone. Bobbing around in a dark ocean on a violet life raft. Or floating around in space, connected to an air tube, but infinitely far from the ship filled with my people. Like I might be cut off any time and no one would notice because of the hollowness always surrounding me.
It’s really late, but I can’t sleep so I’ll write instead.
I don’t have immediate family to rely on and I’ve cut both of my parents off for their toxic behavior while I work on fixing my own bad habits. I’m the oldest sister, so I don’t have any siblings to lean on. I am not close with anyone else of the same blood.
Sometimes I feel like I don’t have a best friend anymore. I have a lot of great, close friends, but I haven’t felt like I share my deepest feelings with anyone. I don’t feel supported and I’d just feel like a burden if I expressed any part of myself with anyone. Not just the sadness, but the mysticism and the human peculiarities that die with me.
I’ve felt alone before, but I’ve never felt ashamed of any part of me. Now I feel embarrassed about so much of myself. I overthink things that happened between me and others. I repeat things that I’ve said in my mind to make sure nothing could have been taken the wrong way by the other person.
I’m constantly wearing a mask that presents an indifferent self to a world that I cannot rely on and the ceramic is slowly cracking from the inside. It’s so unstable and lonely in my space. I long for the days when me and my friends could connect on otherworldly levels and never feel odd about our heady, eccentric thoughts. This is the only place I feel okay spilling my innermost complicated emotions and I am depressed that I feel most liberated writing to strangers, or to no one… Again.
I can’t blame anyone for not wanting to take on my strangeness. I used to think that everyone who met me was captivated by me. That they loved my personality and found me charming and hilarious. Now I frequently look back at how many times I’ve put my foot in my mouth, how many times my texts went unanswered in single and group chats, how many times I’ve been left out of events and activities. How everyone seems to be bragging about all of the amazing things they do that I can’t ever be a part of, if they even bring it up.
I think about reaching out to the same people I’ve reached out to in the past to see how they are doing now, but I don’t because no one I consider a friend has reached out to me once. Not during the pandemic, not now. No one outside my immediate circle asked how I was doing in school. No one I’d known for years, sometimes decades, asked if I’d even got into school after I had mentioned it so many times. No one cares about me and I don’t know why.
All I know is that it really hurts. I don’t know why tonight in particular, but the pain is a weight right here in my chest. I could scream. I feel so trapped by my own emotional isolation and I couldn’t even begin to imagine how to let it out as freely as I truly want.
Life is good, but I’m damaged on the inside.
I don’t want to be needed next time someone speaks to me. I just want someone to let me know they’re there if I need them.
Was it all worth it? Being myself at the best and worst of times? Working out my kinks when it’s too late for people to see me as anything other than the irritating monster that made them keep their distance in the first place?
I don’t know. I don’t know how to be nice all of the time. Being short is a compulsion for me. I’m working on it, but I really don’t see how I can connect with people that way ever again. With love, without boundaries. In the ether.
I wish it was different. I wish I could talk to someone in my earthly life who would understand.