Friendship
Is it utterly crazy that I really miss last summer? I was at probably my most depressed, like, ever, and yet reading old LJ entries about how much my jobs sucked and how much of a mess my apartment was made me really miss it. Maybe it's just the beautiful weather.
I really really miss Sarah. I fear I've spent several dollars on text message conversations back and forth in the past few days.
But frankly, I think August and I are just moving in drastically different directions, and I don't think there's much that's gonna stop that. ::shrug:: It makes me kinda sad, but it's... dare I say, illogical, to try to cling to old friendships when common ground is no longer found. In this case, both figuratively and literally. It might be easier if I still lived on the east side.
But honestly, do I really want to be his friend anymore? It was partly his fault that I went batshit crazy last summer. That stupid book... it fucked us both over, but how we dealt with it was radically different. I found college. He found punks.
This wouldn't be so much of a problem if I didn't have such trouble making new friends.
At the end of last summer and all through this winter, I became a non-social loner whose energies were spent primarily on reading, studying, and immersing herself in various hobbies and interests. But now... I'm getting lonely. I think it'll be easier when Sarah gets back. The honest truth of it is, I'm just not that good at being social. I never have been, even in the days wen I was surrounded by friends and I saw them every day, I've always been the one who went home by herself. I wanted to be the center of attention, the life of the party, the one everyone loved. And I've managed to catch a glimpse of that at the last few actual parties - been a butterfly, flitted from conversation to conversation. But what I want is the small-group interaction with a few people who know each other as close as siblings. I like groups of three. But all my friends have other friends whom they know better, see more often, and I can't help feeling, whom they like more than me. For which I wouldn't really blame them. I like myself just fine, but I know I can be awkward and quiet, and not always the most entertaining person to be around.
There are a few notable exceptions to this rule. Those being Robert and Sarah. But one of them is on another continent, and one of them is computer-bound.
I like enjoying simple company without having to put out the effort of constantly engaging in conversation. I want to be able to be quiet and reflective in the presence of others, and contemplate things that I can then discuss. I'm at my most thoughtful and active when I'm by myself, but it gets lonely. I want someone to share that inside person with. None of my old friends... with said notable exceptions... really fit the bill. With most people, I feel like when I'm quiet I'm being withdrawn and not-fun, but the effort of coming up with something to say is *exhausting*. At least, it is until I know you well enough to know your patterns of speech and what's going to come up next. Getting there is the hard part, and lately it hasn't been worth the effort. Now I'm paying for that lack of effort.
What can I say? I gravitate toward the introverted end of the scale. But even introverts get lonely. And it's perhaps especially painful for us, because we have to wait for the pain of loneliness to overpower the pain of actually reaching out to other people.
I need to be in one of those comic-book odd-couple relationships where person A is manic and energetic and adorable and person B is calm and attentive; person A gets past all of person B's barriers because they're just that persistent and undeterrable, and person B is enough of a solid rock to keep person A's feet on the ground, which s/he needs. Funny thing is, I always envisioned myself as person A in this scenario. It's just not who I am. Or who I'm becoming.
But sitting around waiting for my person A doesn't work either.
Grr frazzle fuzzle fizz pop growl twerk tweak murghle furgle.
I really really miss Sarah. I fear I've spent several dollars on text message conversations back and forth in the past few days.
But frankly, I think August and I are just moving in drastically different directions, and I don't think there's much that's gonna stop that. ::shrug:: It makes me kinda sad, but it's... dare I say, illogical, to try to cling to old friendships when common ground is no longer found. In this case, both figuratively and literally. It might be easier if I still lived on the east side.
But honestly, do I really want to be his friend anymore? It was partly his fault that I went batshit crazy last summer. That stupid book... it fucked us both over, but how we dealt with it was radically different. I found college. He found punks.
This wouldn't be so much of a problem if I didn't have such trouble making new friends.
At the end of last summer and all through this winter, I became a non-social loner whose energies were spent primarily on reading, studying, and immersing herself in various hobbies and interests. But now... I'm getting lonely. I think it'll be easier when Sarah gets back. The honest truth of it is, I'm just not that good at being social. I never have been, even in the days wen I was surrounded by friends and I saw them every day, I've always been the one who went home by herself. I wanted to be the center of attention, the life of the party, the one everyone loved. And I've managed to catch a glimpse of that at the last few actual parties - been a butterfly, flitted from conversation to conversation. But what I want is the small-group interaction with a few people who know each other as close as siblings. I like groups of three. But all my friends have other friends whom they know better, see more often, and I can't help feeling, whom they like more than me. For which I wouldn't really blame them. I like myself just fine, but I know I can be awkward and quiet, and not always the most entertaining person to be around.
There are a few notable exceptions to this rule. Those being Robert and Sarah. But one of them is on another continent, and one of them is computer-bound.
I like enjoying simple company without having to put out the effort of constantly engaging in conversation. I want to be able to be quiet and reflective in the presence of others, and contemplate things that I can then discuss. I'm at my most thoughtful and active when I'm by myself, but it gets lonely. I want someone to share that inside person with. None of my old friends... with said notable exceptions... really fit the bill. With most people, I feel like when I'm quiet I'm being withdrawn and not-fun, but the effort of coming up with something to say is *exhausting*. At least, it is until I know you well enough to know your patterns of speech and what's going to come up next. Getting there is the hard part, and lately it hasn't been worth the effort. Now I'm paying for that lack of effort.
What can I say? I gravitate toward the introverted end of the scale. But even introverts get lonely. And it's perhaps especially painful for us, because we have to wait for the pain of loneliness to overpower the pain of actually reaching out to other people.
I need to be in one of those comic-book odd-couple relationships where person A is manic and energetic and adorable and person B is calm and attentive; person A gets past all of person B's barriers because they're just that persistent and undeterrable, and person B is enough of a solid rock to keep person A's feet on the ground, which s/he needs. Funny thing is, I always envisioned myself as person A in this scenario. It's just not who I am. Or who I'm becoming.
But sitting around waiting for my person A doesn't work either.
Grr frazzle fuzzle fizz pop growl twerk tweak murghle furgle.