I am feeling isolated again this weekend. It is not as if I am alone, my parents hang around and I suppose I could ask them if they want to go and hang out, but I am self conscious about that. I ask myself, "Is this what I am left with now? Hanging out with my parents?" Perhaps it is, as pathetic as that is.
I can remember when I had close friends, friends that would suggest I hang out with them, friends that would suggest I go to a club. They'd pick me up and we'd have stories to tell for the rest of the week. But since moving here three years ago, my days are spent sitting around, looking at facebook, writing, drawing, reading and feeling pitiful. It is not as if I do not have friends that I talk to, friends that like me or friends that think highly of me, it is just that these "friends" don't invite me out; they are my work friends. The people that I have to be acquainted with and on good terms with. Or if they do invite me out, I am busy with school and writing papers.
I don't know what has become of me. Since the breakup I havn't had a close friend that I can be vulnerable with. It is gone now, and I miss it. It has been exceedingly more difficult for me since being in the wheelchair. Three years ago, getting out was much easier since I could still walk and I was in close proximity to friends, but since moving here, I have felt more isolated. Every outing is like some fantastic chore that I would rather not put anyone through. They have to help me down the stairs, help me in the wheelchair, then help me to the seat and struggle to put the wheelchair in the back of their car. It feels like it is asking too much of anyone to do this for me, that they would be better off having friends that they could just pick up and then be on their way with.
I also feel like a fake, that I am presenting myself as a person who couldn't be happier, who could always look on the bright side, who is intelligent, thoughtful and sweet. But inside, my soul feels like it is torn in two, there is a profound hole, a sadness, a crack in my soul and I have no idea if it will ever heal or if I will ever be the same. There are glimpses of happiness. I can bring myself to laugh at a clever witticism, a joke, a small point a colleague makes, but deeper there still resides in me something that has yet to be resolved, a blueness and coldness that remains no matter what I do or who I talk to.
Here is what I miss: I miss waking up and kissing her tiny dimples on the lower part of her back. I miss a gentle touch that makes my soul shiver. The type of shiver that results in goosebumps but is not the result of a cold breeze, rather it is the result of a casual, unexpected stroke of someone close. I miss waking up to her staring at me, or rolling over to grab her in my arms and hold her before she goes to work. I miss the goodbye kisses, and the hello embrace. I miss the tears that I would wipe from her eyes and the feeling that only I am privileged enough to do so. I miss feeling accepted, and that knowing glance; the look that she knows me so deep and knows me so well that it would be impossible to lie to her. Make no mistake these are not things that I miss solely about her as an individual, surely none of these she could offer me now, not even the knowing glance. She does not know me anymore, all she has is a negative schema; the bad things she sees in me that taint her entire view of what actually went on in our relationship; the view that I am lower than her, that my life couldn't even compare to her privileged status. She no longer knows my love of music and art, nor does she really know of my love for philosophy and my love of elegantly written prose. What I really miss are those feelings, touches and looks. The things that are wonderfully average about being in love with a girl that make you see the entire world in a different light.
So this is where I sit. I am still with a broken, dripping heart, yet I am still functional and "over" the ex. However, I am not over love and I still miss being in love. I am told that I just need to find someone else that could fill that hole, someone that could fill that loneliness. I am told that I need to realize that she is replaceable, but with my current condition I wonder who this could be. Sometimes I pretend that I am in love with the waitress at a lounge I frequent, I call her by her name and try to make her feel appreciated. I noticed she got her hair died and said it looked pretty. I smile at her, and look at her with a flirtatious spirit in my eye, that searing look that I used to give my ex that would let her know there's something more. I doubt the waitress notices, but it helps me on some level. Perhaps it helps me feel some connection, even if it is a fantasy connection, to someone that I find beautiful.
I can remember when I had close friends, friends that would suggest I hang out with them, friends that would suggest I go to a club. They'd pick me up and we'd have stories to tell for the rest of the week. But since moving here three years ago, my days are spent sitting around, looking at facebook, writing, drawing, reading and feeling pitiful. It is not as if I do not have friends that I talk to, friends that like me or friends that think highly of me, it is just that these "friends" don't invite me out; they are my work friends. The people that I have to be acquainted with and on good terms with. Or if they do invite me out, I am busy with school and writing papers.
I don't know what has become of me. Since the breakup I havn't had a close friend that I can be vulnerable with. It is gone now, and I miss it. It has been exceedingly more difficult for me since being in the wheelchair. Three years ago, getting out was much easier since I could still walk and I was in close proximity to friends, but since moving here, I have felt more isolated. Every outing is like some fantastic chore that I would rather not put anyone through. They have to help me down the stairs, help me in the wheelchair, then help me to the seat and struggle to put the wheelchair in the back of their car. It feels like it is asking too much of anyone to do this for me, that they would be better off having friends that they could just pick up and then be on their way with.
I also feel like a fake, that I am presenting myself as a person who couldn't be happier, who could always look on the bright side, who is intelligent, thoughtful and sweet. But inside, my soul feels like it is torn in two, there is a profound hole, a sadness, a crack in my soul and I have no idea if it will ever heal or if I will ever be the same. There are glimpses of happiness. I can bring myself to laugh at a clever witticism, a joke, a small point a colleague makes, but deeper there still resides in me something that has yet to be resolved, a blueness and coldness that remains no matter what I do or who I talk to.
Here is what I miss: I miss waking up and kissing her tiny dimples on the lower part of her back. I miss a gentle touch that makes my soul shiver. The type of shiver that results in goosebumps but is not the result of a cold breeze, rather it is the result of a casual, unexpected stroke of someone close. I miss waking up to her staring at me, or rolling over to grab her in my arms and hold her before she goes to work. I miss the goodbye kisses, and the hello embrace. I miss the tears that I would wipe from her eyes and the feeling that only I am privileged enough to do so. I miss feeling accepted, and that knowing glance; the look that she knows me so deep and knows me so well that it would be impossible to lie to her. Make no mistake these are not things that I miss solely about her as an individual, surely none of these she could offer me now, not even the knowing glance. She does not know me anymore, all she has is a negative schema; the bad things she sees in me that taint her entire view of what actually went on in our relationship; the view that I am lower than her, that my life couldn't even compare to her privileged status. She no longer knows my love of music and art, nor does she really know of my love for philosophy and my love of elegantly written prose. What I really miss are those feelings, touches and looks. The things that are wonderfully average about being in love with a girl that make you see the entire world in a different light.
So this is where I sit. I am still with a broken, dripping heart, yet I am still functional and "over" the ex. However, I am not over love and I still miss being in love. I am told that I just need to find someone else that could fill that hole, someone that could fill that loneliness. I am told that I need to realize that she is replaceable, but with my current condition I wonder who this could be. Sometimes I pretend that I am in love with the waitress at a lounge I frequent, I call her by her name and try to make her feel appreciated. I noticed she got her hair died and said it looked pretty. I smile at her, and look at her with a flirtatious spirit in my eye, that searing look that I used to give my ex that would let her know there's something more. I doubt the waitress notices, but it helps me on some level. Perhaps it helps me feel some connection, even if it is a fantasy connection, to someone that I find beautiful.
And for what it's worth, I love going out with my mom. We can close down a bar like no one's business