I’m feeling a little raw today. A little emotional. We’ll be back to our regularly scheduled positivity tomorrow. But today, I need to face this, let it out, and maybe figure out a solution of sorts.
I don’t know if it’s just me, or if other people experience this too, but I have very few friends. When I was young, I had one or two, and as I got older that number never changed. I’ve always been the person on the outside looking in.
I see so many people who have so many good friends. People they can call in an emergency. People they hang out with frequently. People to lift them up. Who laugh with them, who can get their own glass from the cupboard.
Recently I had a really emotional day and wanted, no, needed, to reach out and talk to someone. But I had no one to call. I sat on the floor and cried. Hard, body wracking sobs. With only children and animals to offer comfort, until Ryan was home.
There wasn’t a single person I could think of to talk to about my day.
As an adult, I’ve been told it’s because I’m too weird.
Funny thing. I don’t know what that means. Go figure.
I don’t know if people just don’t like me, or if people would be happy for my company if I asked. Few people ask for my company. I get the impression that most people just put up with me rather than actually want to be around me. And yes, I know there’s a few people who might read this who openly hate me.
The truth is, I’m lonely. So very, very lonely. Almost all the time. Many days I cry, just as I did when I was five, because I wish I had a friend. But I don’t want to be a bother. And even if I did, I don’t have your number anyhow.
If I’m honest though, I know I’m also picky. Sometimes people cross my path, and they’re too weird for me, often I don’t even know why. And maybe they sit at home thinking the same thoughts as me. A little voice tells me to just give them chance.
I recoil. I gave someone I didn’t like a chance before. I was left tattered, torn, and believing I was worthless because of it.
Sitting on the brink of that hole, I see how easy it is to fall in again. I like it up here, in the sun, I just wish there were more people here too.
I’ve spent most of my life protecting myself from the pain other people cause. So many times I open up to someone and they torment me, hurt me, and say it’s my fault. I’ve been told that so many times in my life. I wish I had more friends, but I don’t think I’m very good at it.
What if I call someone, and they don’t want to talk? What if I invite someone over, and they don’t want to come? What if I spend a ton of effort on someone, and they don’t care? What if I offer to be someone’s friend, and they say they’re just not interested? It’s safer and easier to be home alone, but the loneliness of fear is weighing on me and I think it’s time for a change.