The 2022.

This world is weird and I don't fit in it at all. 

I'm like a passing storm that carries itself in chaos wherever it goes, and messes up a bit the lives of others as it passes through. It creates a dent, a crack, a disruption of everyday life, but nothing more...and then it's gone. This is how I feel.

Many before me have written this but it's true: silence can be deafening. It's been the second week since I've been so alone. I try to be busy, but I feel alone. I sat today on the sofa wandering why do I feel so alone - shouldn't I have gotten used to it by now? But somehow the feeling grows, I carry it around throughout the day, heavy in my heart.

The saddest thing that I realized yesterday was that even though I feel alone, I don't think I know what it feels to be with someone anymore. I try imagining it in my mind to see what I want, but I couldn't. So even if it comes, will I be able to see it? 

These days the mere thought of anyone flirting with me seems ridiculous. And I'm giving out a fake smile as I type these words. But if you want the truth, this is it. Someone texting me, sending me a gift, asking me out for a drink just the two of us. Me, getting ready for a date, the stress, the what-to-wear and what-to-say horror. The will-we-kiss-or-did-I-mess-up question at the end of the date. The date. [insert fake laughter] 

What date? what text? Me? I turn my face to the night sky to breath. The windows are huge. I wanted them huge. I can see the sky but I still can't breathe. There is a pain in my chest, as the clock strikes 3:00 am. I need to sleep, I have work to do. But I still hear the echo in the flat: this is ridiculous. 

  

Departures

I always knew I had to go. I only came here temporarily after all. But the virus and everything made time appear shorter or condensed.

"The mountains are calling, so I must go."

What drives me away? Every time something drives me away. I just have to leave. But where do I go? I could have stayed here obviously. I could have denied my transfer and stayed. But do I want to stay? As I look around this place that I made from scratch to look like home, I feel weird and sad.

I don't really wanna go London. I haven't experienced you enough. I was locked in, terrified. Now I'm out, and I just started finding a tempo. I figured out where I wanna go, who I befriend, which hobbies to start. I did it, and as I felt comfortable at last, finally, now I have to go. Now the transfer is out. Obviously. What was I expecting really?

So I guess I'll do what I can do very well. I will pack my bags. There are only mine after all. As always. I will relocate. 

I've been an old soul, always. If the day comes when I need to leave this world, it will be the first time that I won't know where I'll go.  That scares me. If I leave unexpectedly, and if anyone asks how I spent my life just tell them this: She tried. She tried to experience everything. She really did.  

The proposal

 I don't think I'll ever get married. I came to this realization just a few minutes ago, as I was watching a crime series on Netflix. Weird, wouldn't you say?

The correlation is not obvious, but it exists. You see in the series the two detectives (despite a bunch of obstacles and real issues that would never fly out in the real world) are having a moment. It is almost like a proposal, and it moved me. And then I realized, this, this is the one thing that I don't think I'll ever get in my life. Someone saying that he wants to be and stay with me.  

Now that I think about it, when was the last time someone said this or something close to it? When was there someone that admitted to my face that they really like me? I can't even remember. I can't because it's been so long ago. I remember a look, a hug, a kiss but never an explicit declaration. If I die suddenly, I guess this will be my main regret in life: I can't remember anyone trying to own my affection and my time.

I've been desperate for people, but they never seem to be desperate for me. They like me, a lot maybe, but not enough. The few times that I actually got a declaration of some sort, soon afterwards the person vanished. So I don't believe that anyone will declare anything to me anymore. Can you blame me though? How do you believe something you haven't really experienced?

I don't know if I believe in marriage or not. My parents, they had a good marriage, that much I can tell. But I don't know if I believe in marriage myself. I think I believe in people though. Or at least I thought I did. 

I don't even dream about it anymore. Before going to bed, I'd also used to imagine some scenarios where something exciting happens and he (whoever that is) appears and holds on to me. But I can't even do that. For starters, I can't even put a face on who that *he* is.

I don't wanna be alone, I think. I think because I don't really know. But this night again, I'm sad. Sad because I've been wanting a mutual attraction, but the time goes by, things get harder (I get harder too) and there's so little left of me to give or to receive. 

To my future self, I'm sorry. I want to give you something to hold on to, but I can't lie to you: I honestly think you will probably remain alone.

To my past self, I'm sorry too. I blamed you so much for my current state, even though you did the best you could. You tried, I can see it now and I'm sorry for blaming everything on you.

I'm sorry

I'm sorry friend, that I can't seem to find my way out of this. I'm sorry I keep hearing voices having fun around me, excluding me. 

I'm sorry I make you miserable, but I feel so angry. What can I do with so much anger inside? I swear I can hear them right now. The walls are so thin. I keep hearing the footsteps as well. Why can't they stop?

I don't want to listen and I don't want to see anymore. I want nothing. It's been two weeks, I'm supposed to be at my best. Is this it? My best. 

I'm sorry friend, that I'm using you again as a punching bag. You must be tired, trying to manage everything all the time. If only I could understand what I'm doing wrong then I could become better for you. 

This place is wet. I don't feel missed. I feel empty, on my own. I don't think anyone really cares about me, so in turn I can't really care for you. I feel abused and so abuse is the only thing I can give you.

I'm sorry friend that I am so small. I'm sorry, you deserve someone better for sure. I'm small, pathetic, needy, weak, scared and rusty to the bone. I can't function well my friend, and I'm sorry. I promised you I'd get better but I keep failing you, and I'm sorry.

I'm sorry friend, please forgive me. I'm so sorry.

An idiot in the middle of a pandemic

Something strange happened just before Christmas. He appeared outside my door, just before the restrictions re-emerge. It was a wrongful match, totally unaccepted from my part due to demographical reasons (i.e. complete misalignment in ages) but the scene felt stripped out from a movie, it was too hard to ignore. The weird twist of reality, the spark that was there, and the timing that seemed on. I didn't do anything at the time, I was scared. I kept thinking about it though, and eventually about a month and a half afterwards, I decided to give in and make an effort against my better judgement.

Obviously, I should have known better.

The new found friend had said "You are unlucky, it's in your sign". I laughed, I didn't need astrology to tell me that, I had so many years of experience already. I don't know which is sadder: to have something killed after you've had it for a while, or to have something stripped the exact moment where you decide to be brave and hopeful; to let go and just go with it?

I think it's the second. I'm positive about it. 

Today I got slapped in the face, by the circumstances. It was sudden, out of nowhere, and it hurts like hell. I had felt something off, just a little though, so I assumed it's because I've become such a pessimist. It's hard to believe when you've failed so many times before. Yet, I convinced myself that if it was true, I would give it a try. For once I wouldn't think of the problems, it'd just ignore them. 

And then it happened. A sudden friendly walk, the sharing of "news". News that I misheard in the beginning (apparently I was that desperate), and it took a while to sink in. What do I advise her to do? That's great, the knife just went a few inches deeper. Why am I even here? Why am I part of this conversation? Why can't the universe just leave me alone?

Go on, advise. Pretend and advise. Do what you always do, then run and hide. Just a few more steps till I'm inside the flat. Just a bit more, and I'm safe. They can't see me, I can cry now. Why, why do you hurt me so? 

It's fine. I don't need it. I'm fine as I've always been. On my own. It's fine.

An idiot of a late summer

So what am I doing exactly?
I'm in an odd space. I feel drained and empty. Is this the normal kind of empty? Or the not so normal? What is normal anyway?
They said that before someone else loves you, you must love yourself first. I'm not sure how I'm doing on that front. I feel better than I used to. I even congratulate myself for my work at times, which is (believe me) something I didn't use to do. I even think I found my own style in clothes. I am expressing myself. Or so I think. But love still eludes me.
I've managed to detach myself a bit from that person. It still hurts, but I'm containing it. I also though I attracted the attention of someone I found interesting. We do not fit, but there is attraction, and I thought I'd just go for it. And when a week before I thought I made some sudden progress, my heart is sinking in. I think I know that he doesn't care, or he would have made some kind of effort. A small glimpse of something. Or have I become too insecure and impatient, that I can't seem to let things take their time.
I cannot see clearly anymore, but I realize day by day, that I want something easier. I would like to succeed now. Make him call me now. Send a small message. A sign. A something. An anything! It's like whatever I'm wearing I'm invisible, or I'm only see by people I don't care about.
I am tired. I am so tired of this. Make it stop. I don't really wanna try that much. I just want him curious about me, as much as I am about him. Is this so much to ask? Really?

// I've stopped watching romantic comedies btw. Seeing them repulses me. 

And so, you made contact.

And so, you made contact. 

A week and a half, after I wrote about my impulse to reach out, you did it. I didn't do it. I did my part. I held my own. 

And now I am once again half confused, half angry. Why did you reach out? You have a life, one that doesn't include me. Why do you ask for my news? That is not caring, so is it just gossiping?

I've read somewhere that when you feel that something is not right, then it isn't. I believe that. I actually believe that our instincts on people are rarely wrong. So when I feel like you don't really care for me, it must be true.

And so I'm confused, because making contact must mean that you miss something about me, right? However small, I did leave a trace, something you liked enough to make you wanna talk to me.

But I'm also angry. I'm so angry with you. It's hard enough as it is, why do you keep giving me small fractures of hope? What, what, WHAT, do you want from me?

I feel like I'm reading a pointless story. A story written by an amateur that has no idea of the basic rules of writing, there is no plot, no "ending" in its mind, just incoherent spikes of attention. Where is this going? I stopped trying to reach out, my pain is only for me. I stopped not because I'm ethical (I should have been) but because I tried to think for myself and I see no gain in this for me. I'm just hang up on you, and this lingering feeling really isn't benefiting me. You are living your life, can't you just let me live mine? 

Even as I'm writing this, I still want you to reach out again. Like, right now. Talk to me. Please. But, please don't talk me. Just stay away. 

I will not reach out. I promised once, and I intend to keep it. You are probably expecting me to though. Just like you always do. And when you see that I'm not reaching out, then you give it a go. And now because you appeared, you must think that it's fine, it's my turn. Only it's not. It's not my turn. It never is my turn, I will never, never, never, never, never, reach out. Never. I can't do much for myself right now. I can't make me not think about you. I can't make me not respond to you. But I can do this: not text you. I miss you terribly, but I will not text you, because you will not give me what I want anyway. So this is pointless for me. You are getting something out of this communication (although honestly, I don't understand what it is), but I'm definitely getting nothing. So I will not. You can keep expecting, but I will not.