When you come home from a long, unproductive but fun day only to realize in that moment the whole reason why you are falling apart. The reason that has always nudged at you, slowly methodically since you were a child. You realize that you are lonely. Not just in the I think I need a bf way, real friends way or even a close family. The kind of lonely that makes you feel like you are an island, drifting alone at sea. John Donne, wrote, “That no man is an island, entire of itself.” It means man is a social creature and is tethered to a rational, happy reality through pure social bonds. When you don’t have those social bonds you become an island alone at sea. That is what draws in the madness, the fear and the tears. Maybe, at the end of the day, the shallow neighbor, the misunderstanding mother and oddly insistent grandmother are right. Maybe the only way to be happy when you reach a certain point of discontent, is to find a person who forces you to love yourself again. Maybe love is actually a strong force. The last resort tether before madness? If my grandma is right, then all I need to do to fix my problems is hit the gym, dress up more, find a boyfriends and go out. The problem is I’ve spent my whole life liking basically one person. Not that I want that one person back. I am finally well over that boat, rationally at least. I just don’t think I’m as over it as I want to be emotionally. I don’t miss him, not in the slightest. I miss what we were sometimes. To me, he was the one person who I knew would never leave me. He was the only assurance I had in a life that meant a lot of fluctuating. He wasn’t ever supposed to leave and he did. He was the one who took those carefree steps away from me. That is an act, I don’t think I can get over. It’s like opening up a wound I didn’t know I had. Now there’s all this bleeding and even if the doctor is telling me he can stitch, I don’t know if I can get the right stitches. I mean, if finding a new love is the answer, I don’t know what to do. I am twenty years old and I’ve never been a date. Never really had to purposely flirt with anyone, try to hookup with anyone; hell, I don’t think I even know how to like someone new or even try to find them. Tinder scares me. I’m the top of person who fails at making a virtual life great. How can I make the real one amazing, if I clearly don’t know the right choices? All I want to do is curl up a couch, switch between pints of Chinese food and Oreos with peanut butter, watch movies and cry. The problem is I don’t have a couch, there’s no one to come be with me when I cry and at the end of the day I think that would just make me feel worse. Even if I know deep down that I need a really good cry. I don’t get what’s wrong with me. Why I can’t every flip the switch and be happy. I’m always stuck in the g-damn dim light setting. I just want out. I want to be this adventurous, fun person I dreamed of being. Someone who made people life, think and try things they wouldn’t necessarily do. Instead, I’m stuck as their go to listener. That’s about it. I mean I’ve moved passed the bro zone in most cases to the you remind me of my mother. I’m twenty, shouldn’t I know be at the Bubbe phase yet?
Lost and Confused,