Being Alone
People have a strange tendency to develop poor characteristics as they age - nasty tendencies that work against their best interest. This is most commonly found in smoking, drinking, prolonging doomed relationships...
My latest poor characteristic is an inability to be alone; or perhaps it's better defined as fear of not having a significant other, or better yet: maybe I should characterize it as the fear of the world fleeing from you and leaving you completely alone and isolated. No, that's not quite it: dying alone? Being forgotten? Living an existence in isolation? The vile wretched feeling is a compilation of childhood nightmares, past experiences, and current reality - all wrapped up into single shuttering emotion that rears its head when /KM doesn't return my call, or when she leaves for the day without telling me, or sends that cryptic text...anything that gives the slightest perceived hint that she is no longer interested in our fragile relationship.
As you can see the fear manifests itself in a variety of ways, many common ways, and all too common ways. Each and every time it shakes me to my core in what is best described as an existential meltdown. Money, career, lifestyle don't matter much when your emotions are spiraling out of control and sleep eludes you due to fear and regret. Money can buy a lot of things; but it cannot buy inner peace.
To avoid this fear and regret I find myself clinging to /KM; accepting what I normally wouldn't accept and well keeping her happy in an attempt to keep my fear, regret, emotions at bay. What happens when this game runs out? If she decides she isn't interested anymore? I don’t know. I have this dream of packing up my belongings and moving back home; this strange hope that I could just go back to my old retail job from eons ago and starting anew...or is it picking up where I left off? If I liquidate my 401K and savings maybe I could afford a small house and with the money from the retail job maybe I could get everything to work...
As I struggle to find the appropriate ending to this entry, I question why the words don't pour out like they used to. Is it because I'm so out of practice in writing and reading? Or is it simply because this emotion is too difficult to define and it has me spinning every which way until I've lost all sense of direction? I would probably vote for the former, but I wouldn't rule out the latter.
My latest poor characteristic is an inability to be alone; or perhaps it's better defined as fear of not having a significant other, or better yet: maybe I should characterize it as the fear of the world fleeing from you and leaving you completely alone and isolated. No, that's not quite it: dying alone? Being forgotten? Living an existence in isolation? The vile wretched feeling is a compilation of childhood nightmares, past experiences, and current reality - all wrapped up into single shuttering emotion that rears its head when /KM doesn't return my call, or when she leaves for the day without telling me, or sends that cryptic text...anything that gives the slightest perceived hint that she is no longer interested in our fragile relationship.
As you can see the fear manifests itself in a variety of ways, many common ways, and all too common ways. Each and every time it shakes me to my core in what is best described as an existential meltdown. Money, career, lifestyle don't matter much when your emotions are spiraling out of control and sleep eludes you due to fear and regret. Money can buy a lot of things; but it cannot buy inner peace.
To avoid this fear and regret I find myself clinging to /KM; accepting what I normally wouldn't accept and well keeping her happy in an attempt to keep my fear, regret, emotions at bay. What happens when this game runs out? If she decides she isn't interested anymore? I don’t know. I have this dream of packing up my belongings and moving back home; this strange hope that I could just go back to my old retail job from eons ago and starting anew...or is it picking up where I left off? If I liquidate my 401K and savings maybe I could afford a small house and with the money from the retail job maybe I could get everything to work...
As I struggle to find the appropriate ending to this entry, I question why the words don't pour out like they used to. Is it because I'm so out of practice in writing and reading? Or is it simply because this emotion is too difficult to define and it has me spinning every which way until I've lost all sense of direction? I would probably vote for the former, but I wouldn't rule out the latter.