Often times I feel disconnected from society.
I’m shy, I keep to myself, yet I know when to be gregarious and fun. But it drains me.
But day in and day out my phone has no messages, no calls, parties go on without me and all I can hear is that:
“It’s not that nobody dislikes you, but nobody understands you.”
I get it. I hear it all my life and then some. I want to be understood; but I don’t want to let people know my need to be understood.
My neighbor is prettier than me, quieter than me and everyone else walks past my room to bang on hers, invites her to parties, which generally means I get invited out of pity and as an auxiliary.
I’d be lying if I said none of this bothered me. I’ve always felt so disconnected from everybody. The people who care don’t live anywhere near me and even then I’m not on their minds.
I invited a few people to a free hockey game and they all mysteriously had plans. My neighbor had plans too. I just wonder sometimes if they’re only nice to me because I’m there and they have to be.
I wish they’d stop pretending then and let me hear why I’m so disconnected from them.
I haven’t written anything in a while because I felt as though I didn’t need to.
I need to now and a personal diary isn’t enough for me.
Right now, I’m currently battling isolation that I fear is self-made and feelings of love that was reciprocated but was taken away based off of my reactions as an individual.
There are so many wishes I have right now and I’m just hoping that they will be realized. God will provide me but right now I’m constantly confused.
I was met up by somebody who hurt me very badly. The same one whose been hurting me for the past few weeks.
“I miss you, what I did was wrong. I want to make things better.”
Deep in my heart, I knew I needed to hear it. I wanted him in my life, I knew he couldn’t be. I wanted to play devils advocate. I promised to Skype him this weekend so we can talk about what happened between us.
What ensued was a temper that came from me. I suddenly became very closed. Self defensive. I was terrified, I wanted him in my life, but he hurt me once and a month doesn’t just change somebody forever. Regardless of who they were before.
I could not bring myself to trust him enough to talk to him normally. He grew frustrated, angry even and decided that he needed to break off the contact. Perhaps to protect me, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
I don’t exactly know what the right words for me right now are. I know for a fact I’m still healing, and he’s going to move on breaking young girls hearts with broken promises and taking what’s most valuable to them.
Or maybe he’s going to stop his ways and wonder how I’m doing, where I’m heading?
The Skype call never happened, as you can gather. As disappointed as I am about it. I’m not the one who lives with the regret of a loss that never should have happened. I’m the one who never should have responded back in the first place.
It hurts, I wonder what it would take to get rid of this pain?
A few months ago, I made a man cry from an act of kindness. He told me later: “they give you so many nicknames that they associate you with each one personally. You are a lightbringer.”
I find myself writing today because of a tragedy or a to be tragedy. The transience of life flickering before our eyes. Often, we forget our own fragility. It’s sad when you receive bad news. Its worse when the back news comes from somebody you love and they deliver it with the full force.
People are sometimes so strong. I think. Especially when they cry.
I was unable to hold the bad news giver. I was unable to hold the bad news. My eyes flickered and suddenly his pain became her pain became my pain. I wanted to let her know that I felt for her. Loved her all the same and prayed that things would be alright.
God provides. They will be, only we never know that things will be alright when they happen. Were too involved in the superficial to notice the natural process.
Life is painful, but the most painful things are sometimes the most beautiful. I just hope and pain that we sometimes carry amongst ourselves is lifted. Especially from this specific family this post is written about.
I skyped my family for the first time in three months and saw my little loves, my dogs for the first time since I had left. They were the last things I saw when I left home and the first things I see when I log on.
My own dog. The one that hates everybody but me tried smelling for me, looking for my voice, scratching at the leg of the computer desk trying to reach me.
It feels great to be loved and missed.
There’s a reason why I don’t believe in superstitions; Dreams, although they have some significance mean nothing to me, eye twitches, regardless of how often I get them and the verity of the superstition, I’ll still not believe it.
Because unlike the constants in life superstitions are the inconstant, they are presumptions passed on through variations of spoken word and text and differ from person to person. They may hold some claim but are not one hundred percent positive – why waste my time having faith in something that’s not going to happen continuously.
(Ironically, this is where some people laugh at me. I have faith because I chose not to have faith in anything else – does that make sense? Probably not. Basically, my faith is based off of noticing the small things that could only be possible by some supreme deity (deities?). I like being thankful for little things like hummingbirds (mentioned before as my patronus) and dirt, because we both need both to survive somewhere along the food chain. I need to stop digressing).
I mentioned the other day that eye twitches were good luck.
I don’t even want to explain what happened but basically I’m kind of praying that some miracle hits me hard and holds me tight for a while. I really need it, I hope Christmas will bring some good news my way.
Today my sister said something to me that was meant to be a joke but since Ive heard it so often in my daily life since i began this blog. It really, really hurt.
Immediately i locked myself in a room and i bawled. I heard my dogs scratching, trying to get to me as they had when others said the same comments and i moped in a simplistic stupor. I never cried then.
Not even when a man bluntly shut off my dreams. Not even when a friend told me that i was being stupid.
sometimes i can cry too. And it only seems to be through words.