I don’t know how to explain how I’m feeling

other than that I just hung out with three people, one of which is a friend, and the other two of which are previous ‘co-workers’ who are really quite amazing and sweet, witty and confident and wonderful, and yet I can tell that there’s a distance between us, that I cannot be friends with them. And the question then is whether that is because of myself or because of the self I was at work, which was simply not the first impression that did me any favors, quiet and reserved as I was. It oscillates, to be honest: on a good day, I know with all my heart that I am a decent conversationalist though not an expert by any means, but a genuinely kind person, occasionally funny; on a bad one, I wonder how people that I so genuinely like and admire can so subtlety feel and subconsciously communicate that somehow, I am not the type of person they would like to spend time with two weekends from now. It’s not been a great few days. Hopefully being with friends, talking to friends — hopefully this weekend will turn things around.

As much as I wish otherwise, I seem to need socializing more than I tend to think.

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These are pathetic problems

Running the event that we spent all year planning, somewhat bonding with the team, it was fun. But what bothered me is that none of my friends came. I have no friends to automatically hang out with.

Sure, I get invited to things. But I don’t want to be invited. I want to be immediately thought of. I want to be an assumption. But I am no one’s assumption.

When my nights differ, there is no one that molds their plans to mine. I see people when I align my plans with theirs.

And when I got back to the dorm, AM had texted me. I told him to come to my dorm. I needed him to – I needed him to go out of his way to see me. He didn’t. And no matter how eager he acted to get me to come, it didn’t matter, because at the core, he wasn’t going to change plans to see me.

And you know what else bothered me? He stopped by my room around 11pm, looking for me. As if I he assumed I would be in my room on 11pm on a Friday night, free and available to hang out with him on a moment’s notice.

But part of why that bothers me is that it could be true.

I’m not scared of solitude – I need solitude. But I’m scared of what happens when I leave my solitude – is there anyone there looking for me? I don’t know. I don’t think so.

Dream

God – a horrible dream that speaks to my friendship issues right now.

I’m visiting PD at her college. I say some offensive, like being surprised that she’s a legacy to the school (she’s not actually in real life, but she was in this dream), and somehow implying that that was why she’d gotten in. I do that. I make backhand comments that accidentally-on-purpose make people feel smaller.

She caught it, and immediately became sad, and I lost her as a friend.

And I saw SNK C, and I went to talk with him, and he was just so over me.

And I’m just riding the shuttle around her school aimlessly, with no one.

Now, context.

I’ve realized I don’t have a friend group, partly because I love hanging out with individuals so much, partly because I’m too picky with friends such that at the beginning of the year, when friend group were formed, I was too busy fluttering around finding fascinating people. And I did. But now I’m that auxiliary friend, necessary to no one except other floaters.

I don’t think I know how to make a friend group. It seems there’s a certain amount of persistence involved, and a certain amount of settling for what you can get. At least, that’s how I perceived it. But the more I observe, the more I realize it’s not that people are immediately fascinating, or that they immediately click. It’s more that friend groups build inside jokes together, and a certain chemistry together, simply by spending a lot of time together. I guess I never had the patience or the foresight to wait it out.

What that means is that I’m lonely. Because┬áhaving a friend group is a lot of time and effort and not a ton of flexibility, something I could probably adjust to but something I’ve never had to do before. Having individual friends is more flexible. But on a Friday night, when I’m sitting alone and everyone’s busy, it’s lonely. Very lonely.

I’ve been in this funk ever since second semester started – when I leave a social interaction, I can’t help but feel that I’ve thrown more time into a black pit out of which I’ll receive nothing in return. And it doesn’t matter that I have friends. It doesn’t matter that people like me, that I have a lot of likes on my profile picture. I’m not anyone’s number one, and I’m not anyone’s necessity.

It’s not for lack of trying, now. I realized this a while ago. I made an effort to worm my way into a friend group. Quite obviously, I faced push back.

I’ve been trying to come to terms with the fact that I’m too independent to have a friend group, much as AM has, but I don’t think I have the self-confidence to be happy that way.

I’m so lonely. That’s it, really.

Feeling alone

I guess the sucky part of having an official boyfriend is the expectations.

I was sick last night, and miserable, on the biggest party weekend of the year. He’d volunteered to stay in with me. I’d half-heartedly fought against it, and happily accepted.

But on his part, his shows were superficial. He invited to his place, implying that I walk there alone, when before he’d always come to pick me up at my dorm. He was kind of eager to suggest that I leave early to get rest. And when I told him I was feeling too crappy to come over, he accepted that way too fast.

Today? WH ask me how I was, and WH only. Not my boyfriend, not any of my friends.

Solo

My brothers have never *really* been a huge part of my daily life.

We’re not a crazy-tight family (not that we hate each other, but day-to-day, we do our own thing).

K left for college a month back. That went without us really feeling much of a change.
E left for college yesterday. Even that went without me feeling much of a change.

Until…just now.

My mom cooked vegetables, burnt them (typical), and left them in the pot for whoever to eat whenever. I took first pickings, being the one to save them from completely burning to the point of inedibility (typical).

I took a fourth of the share (typical), knowing there were three other people in the household who need to survive off the burnt vegetables. I stared into the pot. Then at my plate. Then into the pot.

And it hit me.

There are only two other people in the household who need to survive off the burnt vegetables. Two.

No one to give good afternoon grunts to when we were too lazy for proper greetings. No one to snicker with as my mother goes through all our of names before landing on the correct kid, dead last. No one to turn on dub step music to drown out my blasting classical symphonies. No one to make fun of when they talked to girls. No one to embarrass at school by hopping, school bag thumping on my side, across the student center to give an impromptu younger sister squirrel hug.

And I felt so lonely, staring into the pot, inhaling those carbon fumes of those typically burnt vegetables.