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.