Disconnected
It’s Saturday and my spirits are higher than normal. That being said, I have some difficult things I need to wrestle with. Last night I really felt my lonliness and alienation. It’s as if, somewhere in my past, I unplugged myself from the rest of the world. There’s so much I never experienced (lots of it sin) that I find myself longing for. I feel cut off, watching people go out with friends for dinner, walk together, just be normal. No one is with me.
Somehow I did this to myself and I just can’t seem to get a handle on how to undo it. I can feel my heart breaking within me when I go out on a weekend night (or even when I stay in). The feelings I felt last night are the feelings I run from, the feelings I bury, the feelings I try to banish to oblivion with stimulus and media. “Maybe if I move fast enough,” I think to myself, “I won’t realize I’m alone.” And the substitutes do the job, for a little while. They just don’t change the truth.
Days are easier: I can be out among people, even exchange friendly words and smiles, and not feel the deep hurt. But nighttime is a time for being with friends and loved ones, or for finding yourself alone. The middle ground of polite friendliness becomes colder somehow as people cluster with those they truly want to be with. Everyone picks their teams and goes to play; I stand, still hoping to be chosen. That hope hurts so much that I’m afraid of it.
Tears are welling in my eyes now, and even though they may be borne of self-pity, they also rise from true feeling. There’s a heart down there somewhere; it just doesn’t feel good things very much anymore. But I’m not dead yet.
How do I change? How do I get on the train when it’s moving so fast and has gone so far ahead of me? How do I fit in now, when the teams are picked and I don’t even know how to play? I long for love, but I’d settle for just being closer to socially normal.
Somehow I did this to myself and I just can’t seem to get a handle on how to undo it. I can feel my heart breaking within me when I go out on a weekend night (or even when I stay in). The feelings I felt last night are the feelings I run from, the feelings I bury, the feelings I try to banish to oblivion with stimulus and media. “Maybe if I move fast enough,” I think to myself, “I won’t realize I’m alone.” And the substitutes do the job, for a little while. They just don’t change the truth.
Days are easier: I can be out among people, even exchange friendly words and smiles, and not feel the deep hurt. But nighttime is a time for being with friends and loved ones, or for finding yourself alone. The middle ground of polite friendliness becomes colder somehow as people cluster with those they truly want to be with. Everyone picks their teams and goes to play; I stand, still hoping to be chosen. That hope hurts so much that I’m afraid of it.
Tears are welling in my eyes now, and even though they may be borne of self-pity, they also rise from true feeling. There’s a heart down there somewhere; it just doesn’t feel good things very much anymore. But I’m not dead yet.
How do I change? How do I get on the train when it’s moving so fast and has gone so far ahead of me? How do I fit in now, when the teams are picked and I don’t even know how to play? I long for love, but I’d settle for just being closer to socially normal.
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