Venting.

Second post of March. it's getting warm.

There are very few times I feel truly touched. And usually, it comes from an incredibly insignificant source or reason. Though I do tell my family I am grateful for the things I've done, and the same to my friends. And I mean it. But there have been times where I actually felt relief from depression for some reason, and those are the times I am more grateful and I can actually feel my heart thaw.

Once, I was lying on my friend's couch in the midst of a party going on outside. There were about forty people rampaging around having a good time, and I my attempts to socialize failed miserably. If I could be like Smith at any point in my life, that would be it. Unfortunately, I didn't know him then, so I couldn't appreciate the irony of living someone else's misery. I digress; as I laid on that couch, I felt more space between myself and the rest of the world than imaginable. Any hello or other greeting I could have managed failed to suffice, and would drop me into an abyss of awkwardness when the person I was talking to realized I'm not someone they talk to. And a cat chose to jump onto me. I don't get animals. But they like me. And they're more affectionate sometimes than most humans I've ever met. That cat was there for no other reason than it wanted to be near me, and it stayed there for three hours, to keep my company when the rest of the world wouldn't even care to try. And for that, I was thankful. I was happy.

I've spent so many nights staying up wondering if anyone was alive in the middle of the night. I live alone. I eat alone. I write alone. I do everything alone, and when I go out, I am still alone. I am alone when I talk to my friends, when I attend class, when I study with a classmate, and when I'm talking to the person working the cash register of the restaurant I'm eating at. I try to look them in the eyes, and they look everywhere else but mine. So many of the people I've met are afraid of actually connecting to someone. I've been told it's creepy to do more than glance at someone you like. I've been given weak handshakes, or varying "handshakes" that don't last for more that a second. People are uncomfortable to hug me for more than two seconds (if at all), and feel awkward if they don't pat me on the back. It's not manners. It's a fear of getting to know someone else. I don't know what it's like to really know someone else anymore. I've lost the ability to understand anyone. But maybe that's because as we get older, you don't want to be understood. And it really kills me. Because I don't really "get" anyone I know. Not even my best friend, my exes, my forgotten friends, my family, or myself.

I lie compulsively. Much less than I used to, but I still lie. And every time I true, it's believed so easily. But whenever I speak the truth, it's disregarded quickly. No-one seems to appreciate honesty. Am I really so untrustworthy? I can't remember the last time anyone fully confided in me more so than anyone else. I can't remember a time where I was the friend of someone, not a friend. I know those times existed, I can remember names and an occasional detail from a memory, but I can't remember the time it happened. Or maybe I'm just lying to myself.

I have dreams of making friends, falling in love, traveling, adventures both grounded and fantastical, I have dreams of me being someone else that seems more like myself.

It's upsetting.