does not have a card that reads:
“You don’t need my shit right now.”
There is something weird about wanting to be there for someone when how that person needs you to be there for him is by not being there.
As the song says, “Love hurts. Love breaks.”
This weekend I cried myself to sleep. Three times. Even when simply paying bills, the tears dripped unexpectedly down onto the papers on my desk. I feel weak and ashamed; like I should be able to enjoy my life and be emotionally strong, but instead I find myself wanting to be held and unable to engage in the simple acts of friendship.
Surely I’ve had enough experience living alone that I should be good at it by now. Instead, I discover that I am emotionally raw, once again telling myself that time will make things different. Right now I only believe that time just wears one out, that feelings subside out of exhaustion not out of resolution. One moment I feel my better self coming to the foreground. For a moment, I look forward to daily activities. The next moment, I find myself wondering what is the point and have difficulty getting out of bed.
Over the years I’ve noticed that my social interactions earn me lots of admirers. Unfortunately, that only amplifies the sounds of silence I have when I go home alone. Eventually the potential mate tells me that the timing is bad, that I’m a great friend but that he is not interested in more, or I find myself no longer attracted to him.
People say that true love finds them. I suppose the same is true of singlehood. That it just finds you without your looking for it.
My resolve now is to double efforts at paying off debt so that in a year or so I can take a non-descript job and live in solitude without agitating the part of me that seems destined to end up disappointed.