Sometimes I Get Real Lonely

"Summertime” - My Chemical Romance

Sometimes I get real lonely. There, I said it. Sometimes, being single, sucks. There, I said that too.

You wouldn’t know I get lonely. I have amazing friends, and an awesome family, and I probably couldn’t be more loved. I know I’m lucky, and I really don’t want to sound ungrateful. Some people never have a true friend in their whole life, and I have plenty. Some people will always feel like the odd one out of the family, when I rarely do. But some people also find love, and I haven’t.

I’m not sure weather it’s my age (I recently turned 25 years old) that’s making me feel this part of my life so heavily, or whether it’s that I’m actually ready to re-start this part of my life, but I’m starting to feel like my time is running out. The little things in life tell me that I’m not as young as I used to be. I get achy first thing in the morning. Walking, let alone running, up the stairs leaves me slightly out of breathe (although this could be largely due to the twenty cigarettes a day I huff on). Painting my toe nails is now a half-hour of groaning and moaning whilst I try to reach my feet. And yet, despite all these intricate changes, I’m still alone.

I haven’t dated since I got my head straight (yeah, it‘s been a while), so I feel incredibly out of touch. I was never great at dating, but more at getting drunk and then falling into bed with people, but I miss that initial spark; the excitement of meeting someone new that you connect with. It doesn’t help that, due to my teetotalness, I no longer socialise in pubs, and when I do, I probably wouldn’t be comfortable with meeting someone this way. I’m not up for a drunken fumble; I’d like to spend time with someone that makes me laugh, and that I share things in common with. A Friday or Saturday night in the pub is unlikely to find me such a person.

I have some really awesome friends that allow me a vast amount of companionship, and affection (once you’re in the personal space bubble you get a free pass, and a hug for every occasion), but occasionally I feel something might be missing. Not from me, because I’m pretty happy as a whole, but there’s just a space where something (although I’m not sure what) should be.

The massive problem is…..that I’m actually really scared.

Although my confidence is at the highest it has been since I was about thirteen years old, it’s till thoroughly fragile. I’m still fragile. I haven’t been the person that I now am for very long. I’m still getting used to this new, and sometimes odd, emotion of being relatively happy and contented. And I’m terrified that “getting back on the scene” might mean rejection, and pain. Pain and rejection that I’m not sure I can handle. Sometimes I under-estimate myself, and I know that I could probably cope with anything these days (sometimes you have no choice but to carry on, and eventually the pain will lessen), but that’s part of my worry. Everything concerning this subject is pretty much brand new to me, so I don’t have any idea of how I would act; or even how I’m supposed to.

I’m also frightened to admit to myself, and the people that I care about, that I feel this way because, if I want something, but haven’t got it, I’m loosing at something. And if I admit that I want something, and then get completely crushed, it will hurt so much to have to acknowledge this. I guess it’s really complicated, and I’m sure as hell being inarticulate, but I still feel that this is the one area of my life that my illness holds me back in.

I’m prone to over-analysis, I’m astoundingly socially awkward, but I wish that I could find someone that saw past those neurotic parts of me, and saw only a person with a lot of love to share.

N.B. This post was written in August 2011, so therefore belongs to the previous set of Blog writings, but was not posted previously.