Day 9 I am…

A common suggestion when a person is feeling down is to make a list of self-affirmations.

I am intelligent.

I am funny.

I am a good writer.

I am already bored with this project.

I am tired of picking myself up.

I am ready for a partner whose eyes light up when I laugh.

I am not finding this helpful.

I am probably approaching it from the wrong angle.

Anyway, the point is, I have been feeling down, a lot, lately. There is a special man in my life who has not been in my life for a while and that has me super bummed. But it’s more than that.

I hate to use the word hate but I don’t love the people in this cultural wasteland where I live. Yes, there are individual people who don’t suck but it’s the mentality. I talk to people, all day, every day. Small talk, about kids and family and where we grew up. When people say they are new to the area, I always want to know why. And I mean it in the most condescending way possible, although I don’t show it. “What brought you here?” I ask, cheerfully. “Why the hell would you want to live here?” I think to myself.

And sometimes the answer reinforces my disdain. “It’s quiet. It doesn’t feel like a city. You can get to know your neighbors, here.”

Not that there is anything wrong with getting to know your neighbors. Providing you want to know your neighbors. Or more importantly that you want your neighbors to know you.

Which sounds a little hypocritical when I say that part of the thing I hate about my current situation is that I’m horribly lonely. People I went to high school with have their own circles of friends – and most of them have kids – and I’m not all about busting in on that all awkward new kid. I get along with the girls I work with and a couple I went to cosmetology school with but, sorry not sorry, I don’t want to spend extra time with them outside of work. It becomes uncomfortable and forced, for everyone involved, and then you go back to work and continue to be uncomfortable. It’s just not worth it.

Call me stubborn if you want but I like my old friends. My university friends. And my music friends – the friends I have met because we liked the same band(s). I kind of feel like part of my “romance” related anxiety and stress is because I am so disconnected from those people in my life who won’t take defeat for an answer. Those people who are there when you need someone to dress you and drag you out of the house for a good time. Even if it’s coffee and pie at 3 in the morning at Village Inn. I have those people. They’re just 300 or more miles away.

But it’s more than that. I miss going out for a cup of coffee or a beer. I miss a pile of people in one person’s bed, watching movies and eating junk food. I miss being so comfortable with the people with whom you are sharing oxygen that you just lay your head in a lap, no permissions requested or given or needed, and the owner of said lap instinctively starts petting your hair. Yeah, all of that sounds a lot like college but it also sounds a lot like bonding and friendship – real, legitimate friendship.

I’m sorry to be such a wet blanket these past few days. I’ll be totally honest and say that whatever strain has been placed on this one particular friendship –  not to mention missing all of the other friendships in my life – is really hurting my heart, and as hard as I try to be positive and cheerful, it’s just not working.

I am caring.

I am loving.

I am passionate.

I am sad.

I am lonely.

I am forever an emo kid.

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