Awake in front of the computer and lonely
It's five minutes to four AM on a cold morning in January
. There's a good metre or so of snow on the ground, Christmas break is over and school is in again.
I have to work tomorrow. I should be sleeping.
Instead, I'm browsing the site, looking over the articles that resonate so poignantly within me. Why are there so many lonely "nice guys"
? Why do some people grow up more socially inept than others?
Why am I so afraid of my father dying?
It's not as though I don't expect it; he's in his sixties, mortality
gets more likely when you hit that point - but it just seems like it's been so little time that I've been able to spend with him, like I don't know him all that well.
I don't know anyone
very well, come to think of it. I've always had some reason to move on
, a reason that ruptured those tentative bonds and made them tenuous at best, broke them at worst. I had to change schools in elementary; I went to two different high schools, neither of them with friends from elementary; and now in university
I'm hesitant to try forming friendships, because I'm not sure how. Nobody's there to drag me out of my apartment, nobody's there to drag me to a movie, or a party, or anything.
And yet I have female friends who turn to me for advice on their relationships
, on what to do - me, who has never had the chance to even kiss a girl, let alone be in a serious relationship like the ones they so casually ask me about - each question feeling like a dagger as I realize my affection
was, perhaps, misplaced, as were my hopes.
I don't show it, though - I hardly ever do. I keep my face in a grin - remember, everyone is affected by how you carry yourself, how you feel; keep a brave face for the troops - and laugh, because I ran my tears dry years ago, laugh because it's too damn hard to cry.
I don't sleep well, nights. I hardly ever do nowadays. The glow of my LCD screen is somehow comforting in the dark of my 2 1/2 apartment. It's quiet and warm and lonely.