Me again. In a perpetual back-and-forth between happiness and depression. Sometimes I think, heck — life isn’t so bad. I have to go to work, and earn a living, and take care of myself, but there isn’t a whole lot tying me down. In a sense, I have a degree of freedom, and a world of opportunities waiting for me. So why is it I feel my best years are behind me? I am still young, but it feels as though a part of me was lost somewhere, in the past, and I am not whole anymore. There’s this underlying sense of emptiness in my life.
I think it’s probably quite natural, going from a five year relationship, to living alone. But every time I think something is going to change, something new will begin, it never does. I got a new job, and I went back to university, but I still haven’t made any friends. I make an effort to talk to people, and everyone is generally kind and pleasant, but our conversations don’t graduate beyond small talk. I don’t know what to say, and people probably don’t know what to say to me. Sometimes I think maybe I come across as a bit sad, or mysterious. It occurred to me the other day, that it has actually been ten years since I made my last friend. That was in college — a time where everyone seemed so much easier to approach.
When I look at other people my age, they’re often in groups, and have so many people to meet and things to talk about. Whereas I am alone, day in, day out. It makes me feel rather pathetic, and sometimes I’ll drift off into imagination land, and think about how great life would be, if only I had somebody to share it with. Sometimes I daydream about my ex-girlfriend. I imagine her reaching out to me, and coming to stay, and I think about how I would react to seeing her. I will always carry around a lot of pain because of her, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to see her again. It’s been almost a year since I heard her voice, and saw her face. I feel as though I would break down if we were to meet again, through a combination of devastation and relief.
The worst thing now is that I am used to being alone. It has become the norm. I even drink alone sometimes. Not because I feel particularly down, but because I just need something to break my dreary routine. Christmas is coming up, and I can just see myself sitting around, doing nothing in particular, with a bottle of alcohol. Gosh. I’m going to be alone on Christmas. What a year this has been. What a situation my life has become.
I’ve been thinking about getting a dog. I rent my apartment, so I don’t think it’s actually permitted, but that seems so ridiculous to me. I put down a substantial deposit in order to move in, and I give up seventy-five percent of my income to call this my home. I pay my bills, and live considerately and fairly, and still I am at the mercy of somebody who has never even met me. How can you deny somebody a pet? What a world. I’m lonely.