All By Myself
There is a particular illness that exists in the world, especially prevalent among humans. It is easily diagnosed, symptoms are largely apparent and there is no known cure. Various forms of treatment are available but in truth, the disease must go away on its own. The name of the aforementioned illness… loneliness.
With the revival of Summer 2006 coming to a close by 9a.m. tomorrow morning, I can’t help but feel a twinge of nostalgia for what used to be. Seeing the people who made my year and remembering what it felt like when I had everyone there for me made me realize - as if I weren’t already so acutely aware of it - how lonely I have become during the past month and a half at college. And I suppose to a certain extent, even here I feel sometimes like there is a deficit of people in my life who I fully trust and rely on.
What kills me even more is that after the events of the year, I realize that if this were a year ago, the chances are great that I wouldn’t be like this. I wouldn’t feel like I needed a support network. I wouldn’t feel like I could have emotions so openly. I would have been able to compartmentalize and hide my feelings that made me feel vulnerable and exposed. And now, I don’t care if I’m exposed. I don’t care if people say it’s weakness or dependency because even if it is, I don’t want to hide away what I feel. Being a robot isn’t so fun and any high the materiality and superficiality can never compare to the feeling of an emotional connectedness with another human being.
And even though I find myself more open to the possibility of true interpersonal relationships, finding another person to trust enough is altogether, another formidable challenge. Anyone I want to talk to comes with their own corresponding set of preconditions and consequences if those conditions are breached. If I talk to one about hating my current position in life, she can only say to be positive, as if it’s completely my fault that nothing seems right. If I talk to another about missing what once was I get told to get over it, no compassion, no understanding, just “tough love.” Some I don’t even bother telling, knowing the repercussions will undermine the remaining, fragile foundations my life is based upon.
I never could have pictured myself in this situation, wanting human understanding but fighting the conditions that risking such entails. I know, you can’t freeze time, and rarely do you ever get to go back to the past. But I at least wish that there was someone to talk to about it.
With the revival of Summer 2006 coming to a close by 9a.m. tomorrow morning, I can’t help but feel a twinge of nostalgia for what used to be. Seeing the people who made my year and remembering what it felt like when I had everyone there for me made me realize - as if I weren’t already so acutely aware of it - how lonely I have become during the past month and a half at college. And I suppose to a certain extent, even here I feel sometimes like there is a deficit of people in my life who I fully trust and rely on.
What kills me even more is that after the events of the year, I realize that if this were a year ago, the chances are great that I wouldn’t be like this. I wouldn’t feel like I needed a support network. I wouldn’t feel like I could have emotions so openly. I would have been able to compartmentalize and hide my feelings that made me feel vulnerable and exposed. And now, I don’t care if I’m exposed. I don’t care if people say it’s weakness or dependency because even if it is, I don’t want to hide away what I feel. Being a robot isn’t so fun and any high the materiality and superficiality can never compare to the feeling of an emotional connectedness with another human being.
And even though I find myself more open to the possibility of true interpersonal relationships, finding another person to trust enough is altogether, another formidable challenge. Anyone I want to talk to comes with their own corresponding set of preconditions and consequences if those conditions are breached. If I talk to one about hating my current position in life, she can only say to be positive, as if it’s completely my fault that nothing seems right. If I talk to another about missing what once was I get told to get over it, no compassion, no understanding, just “tough love.” Some I don’t even bother telling, knowing the repercussions will undermine the remaining, fragile foundations my life is based upon.
I never could have pictured myself in this situation, wanting human understanding but fighting the conditions that risking such entails. I know, you can’t freeze time, and rarely do you ever get to go back to the past. But I at least wish that there was someone to talk to about it.