To be alone in a crowd is infinitely worse than being alone.
I found this quote in an old yearbook in my high school publications classroom and it has stayed with me ever since. I’ve been living it -on and off- ever since.
I went to a movie tonight with friends. The movie was entertaining. Andy was there. It was weird. Ackward is the word, I believe. It really hurt -the weirdness, I mean. I had been fine up until it dawned on me that the weirdness wasn’t imagined. I don’t know if I lost a chance there or just never had one. Honestly, it’s a dead issue -time and separation have dulled the butterflies I used to get at the possibility of being in his presence. Simple friendly association never seemed to be a plausible option with him, but tonight I just got hit with the feeling of loss.
My car was the loneliest thing I’d ever seen as I walked across the deserted multi-plex parking lot to it. The walk was even lonelier. As I walked I was gradually overwhelmed by the sadness again. I keep feeling as if I’ve shaken it off, only to be sucked back under when I’m least inclined to wallow in it. It isn’t the loss of a crush or a failed relationship that stirs it. It isn’t even the feelings of self-loathing that begin to whirl in my mind each time I enter a futureless non-relationship and end up fighting the urge to long for whoever’s sleeping with me at the time. I suppose it could be summed up to the loss of each glimmer of hope that appears (real or imagined) every time I feel a connection to someone. Friends who care eventually fade into social contacts who struggle to maintain whatever bond I may have formed with them. Lovers eventually realize that flings can only last so long and go looking for the next. Even the relationships that I form with people who always seem SO RIGHT end up being illusory.
I don’t know what I want. I don’t know how to get it. I just know I’m in pain and there doesn’t seem to be a way out.