It's so strange, how I'm living. There are a lot of things that I know I should do that would make my life better but I don't. Just weird. I think about doing them everyday. I make up excuses why I don't do them and that settles it, for that moment. So then I further dwell on the topic somewhat passively. I am under no illusion that everything I do is my own fault and that I have no one else to blame. The benefits of being alone all of the time. I don't have any friends here any more. They all moved away. It's odd. I'm sure that is why I don't like it here so much. I don't even see people on the street who I think I would like. The people I know are mostly from work and that is the thing we have in common. I'll be hanging out with them soon enough so I don't really want to right now.
In all honesty there is one thing that would make me feel the best, if someone called me because they were thinking of me and wanted to hang out. That would be great. That's the catch isn't it? There isn't anyone so they can't call and I have no one to connect with to meet people who might want to call me. Shit. I hate that I dwell on this. Pretty much all the time. I understand every angle of the problem and know what I would have to do to solve it. I just don't. It's easier to sit up late on a friday night writing on my computer unable to sleep because I wish I was out with people who I consider friends or sitting around with the girlfriend that exists only in my mind and who sometimes I feel will never be real. I must just be lazy. I don't want to try, and this is the price I pay. I think that now I can officially say that I'm lonely.
Last week I went into town at night to go to the library. On my way home I stopped at the stupid expensive grocery store. I was looking at the dates in the produce section, and as I was looking at them one of the packages fell off and slid across the floor. I said aloud “Well that didn't work out so well.” A woman around my age standing there said as she picked up the package and handed it to me “But it ended well.” I couldn't think of anything to say. I said nothing but smiled. As I was driving home in the dark a song came on my ipod that isn't a really emotional song and the lyrics are sort of tongue-in-cheek serious, but as it started to play I began to cry. Really cry. Sobbing while driving. I guess it was the melancholy melody and the fact that I felt exasperated. I then thought of the woman at the store and how I wish I had been able to say something. I wished how in some way someone would know how I feel. How worthless everyday feels sometimes even though I feel fine and can't really complain. I can't really be optimistic either. Mediocre. I cried because I wanted to feel something besides indifference and hopeless wishful thinking. I realized how much I am missing because I don't try. Because I am afraid of something. Because I have everything I want except one thing that voids everything else. Life is nothing if you have no one to share it with. I can only tell people what I have done and do. I want to be able to reminisce with people. It sounds corny but waking up alone gets old. Bed becomes an adversary. Even though it has been years since I haven't woken up alone. Not even waking up alone, doing everything alone. My only treatment is the fact that I explain how I feel and observations I make to myself. I talk to myself a lot. I always have but now, it's out of hand. I have philosophical conversations and make up jokes. Weird. I think I even do it when I'm around other people and I don't notice it. Odd.
Had a birthday the other day. I'm not one to be concerned with getting older. It just happens. This birthday was different though. I was alone. No cake, no going out to eat. Opened a box from my folks by myself. Depressing on one level, but I took a more ambivalent approach. I could have been sad about it. But I wasn't. I'm ok with being alone but frustrated too. I don't feel like there are people in this town who I can relate too. They're all transplants, like me. But unlike me, a lot of folks seem to be here for some weird reason having to do with fashions, trends, and wanting this to be more like where they are from. I often say to myself that I'm just not cool enough for this town. My pants are too loose and my clothes are just too inexpensive in general. I'm not drunk enough either. No am I or anyone I know “just sooooooo amazing.” Fuck. This shit is seriously bringing me down.
Things are easier blogged than done, so they say.
Lots of Pink Floyd and bluegrass too.
(written March 6)