I’ve been in a romantical mood as of late. I’m not quite sure where it came from, or why it came on so strongly, but it’s there and threatening to beat all my walls down.
I think it started the other day, when my roommates and I somehow got on the topic of wedding rings, and suddenly we’re all scrolling through our phones and showing each other engagement rings we find pretty. I later kept that tab open to fantasize about it a little longer.
Or maybe it’s the sudden uptick of couples on campus. I see people paired off in sets of two everywhere I go. I think it’s the spring weather. A lot of the time, I’ve come to find, that contributes to instances of a relationship. Holding hands. Leaning in close. Giggling and laughter. Even most of my friends have paired off.
I’ve felt increasingly lonely lately. Usually I’m content with being alone, mostly because I’m used to it, but there’s been a disturbance in me recently that I can’t quite put my finger on.
I think it’s because lately I’ve been in a lot of situations where having someone there for moral support would make all the difference. It’s not the same when my mom is 1000 miles away, and because I’ve shirked back from most of my regular interactions, I feel like I don’t deserve to burden my friends. I just wish I had real life reassurance, the kind I can see in your eyes.
It doesn’t help that the vast majority of my social interactions, as of late, have taken place behind a screen, where I try to fill the void of shallow acquaintances with even shallower substitutes. Worse yet, it’s so nonspecific, yet all-consuming, that it won’t go away.
I thought I’d be able to rid of the feeling as I normally do, and push past it back to contentedness, but I’d be lying if I said the feeling wasn’t different this time. I haven’t really felt this way since 2019, where I’d be wondering after school to myself if this were all life was going to be for me. And now it’s come back to greet me like a boulder before a landslide.
Maybe it’s also because nothing seems to be going right lately. Between every mounting obstacle and blow to my self-esteem, I’ve gotten to the point where ignoring that problem feels like willing, blissful ignorance. I know I’ve made jokes about this before, especially most recently in my last blog post, but I oftentimes thrive on the delusions I can conjure up in my mind. I love seeking solace in the one place things will go alright for me. It takes the edge off of a long day, like the way an alcoholic will seek comfort from the bottom of a glass, or a chain smoker to a pack of cigarettes.
I’m never in any circumstances talking about my online friends when I say this, but I really don’t have any meaningful relationships in my waking life. All of my dearest companions are people I’ve never physically met before, but it’s a genuine friendship, tried and true; people I’ve grown up with for years. I love them all so much, so dearly, and my only complaint is I wish I had the joy of seeing them everyday in person. People who I enjoy being around, and who equally enjoy me, not just for the sake of convenience.
Many people have echoed my sentiments, just as many will after me, but I struggle with making meaningful friends. Perhaps it’s because I’ve highlighted myself as a “social floater”- I get along with everyone, so there was never a real need to box myself in with one specific group or ideology, because I could come and go as I please. I make people feel good about themselves. And I like making people feel good about themselves. It’s what I do best. And because of the convenience I provide as an easy friendship- a listening ear in times of distress, a shoulder to cry on, an unjudgmental stare- there is no need to reciprocate such actions with me, because I will most likely never open up in the first place, not unless prompted, for fear of sounding self-centered, and that’s exactly how you end up with friendships where you are seen as dependable and reliable, without really being all there.
When I was younger, I had problems with opening up to people because I struggled to connect with age-appropriate problems plaguing my peers. The pendulum of emotional maturity swings both ways, and that was one of its downsides. And it doesn’t help that I often times naturally shoe-boxed myself into being the support friend- a position I don’t mind with regular people, but sometimes I’d always be paired up with someone who could never stop talking about how awful their life was, how bad they felt, and the usual draining motifs these archetypes of people bring with themselves, etc. I attract exhausting people, sometimes, because I’d feel bad for them being shunned.
But let it not be thought that I’m blaming anyone else for my problems, no. I’d always figured this was a no-fault situation, something that can’t be helped from either side. I can’t fault my peers for not relating to me, the same way it’d be unfair for it vice-versa. Everyone is at different places in their lives, and at no point does being in similar age groups guarantee you will be in similar situations. Everyone moves at a different pace, and everyone will be in a different place.
As you can see, that feeling hasn’t been anything new. I think I just did better at stuffing it down last time. And, truthfully, I was happy being alone, but I think this is the first time I’ve ever felt dreadfully lonely. I’ve always been able to keep my own company, but I think what I truly long for is companionship and understanding. I’ve often feared that I’m far too boyish in personality for any man to be attracted to me on anything other than a superficial level, because I have yet to have that experience happen romantically. My friends love me, and I love my friends, and they always tell me how great I am, and really it’s my own fault that I feel disconnected from them; it’s on me. But when it comes to romance, I think I will be less likely to succeed.
I used to primarily crave for a best friend, for a deep understanding and loyal companionship that runs deeper than just sexual attraction, but is endearing and enduring love, but I’ve found myself changing gears slightly. I’d really love to feel love, and to be in love, and to know what it’s like to be desired. Alas, I’ve yet to have that feeling, because I’ve never had anyone like me for who I am.
Which is a darn shame too, because I think I would make a lovely partner. I’ve had guys attracted to me before, but it’s only on days where I advertise myself as ideal with the way I dress, because men are visual creatures, after all, and they oftentimes can’t see past what I wear before realizing that, huh, she’s kind of attractive after all. I would love to know what it feels like to be loved for who you are. I’ve never had a guy like me. Even among the guys I’ve dated. Physical attraction is not the same as appreciation of character.
So, just like every other person my age, oftentimes I’ve fantasized what that must feel like. I’m glad I have a point of reference in the forms of other people, but I still long to know what it feels like romantically. To have someone who loves you, every part of you, and want to spend the rest of their days with you. A man compassionate, kind, and just as enthusiastic as me. I’ve curled around my heart-shaped pillow every night just to dream about it and ponder what it’s like. For several days I’ve listened to nothing but romance songs. I’ve even started reading my horoscope to see if I’d be lucky in love.
Maybe I should get to bed before the thought consumes me again. It’s already been on my mind for several days at a time, so I’d be lying to myself if I expected it to go away, but at least it’s one of those subjects I can fill the void with in fantasy and dreams to not feel so bad about everything else.
But beyond that, I think what I desire most are meaningful relationships. This post may convey the idea that I struggle with talking to people, but not at all. For the longest time, I was under the impression that I was an extrovert simply because socializing came naturally for me. I love people, I really do, and I love listening to them and hearing what they have to say and where they come from. I love their little quirks and fashion choices and finding out what they think about their hair. I love finding out what we have in common and where we differ, and the challenge of finding the perfect way to socialize with the other party is highly appealing to me.
But lately it feels like I’ve lost my edge. I’ve become so isolated that I almost feel like I’ve forgotten how to talk with people, in a way. And lately, it’s not enough to simply get along with them. That part comes easy. What I’m looking for is satisfaction.
I love interacting with strangers because I can have a fulfilling social interaction without the expectation of a deeper relationship; both of us enter and exit the conversation with the knowledge that we will not leave as friends.
But my regular interactions, with the familiar faces I see every day, those are the ones that bother me. They consist of someone who I dread talking to, who I try to avoid, often times because they have no listening skills, or are prone to interrupting, or simply are hard to carry a conversation with. About 90% of my day-to-day social interactions consist of some form of this, where it lacks all the things that send me further into a depressive spiral. And when my options consist of talking to someone who will take effort for an unfulfilling interaction, or not talking at all, then why wouldn’t I choose the latter? Talking is the easy part. Understanding is what I’m looking for. I do wish I had someone to care, and someone who wants me, genuinely, around.
And the irony is that I do have someone like that. My mom, of course. I love her so much, you wouldn’t believe, and I think that’s because her mere presence has spoiled me into knowing what a healthy conversation should be. We listen, we contribute, we care. And now everything else after that feels so bland, so surface-level and unfulfilling. It’s not interactions I’m looking for, it’s meaningful interactions. And it’s more noticeable still that, when I look back on my life and my catalogue of friends, I have never gotten to experience that with a peer for more than a brief moment. That kind of lifestyle just isn’t sustainable. And now it’s starting to take its toll.
Between all my decisions falling apart at the seams, and a lack of joyous hobbies to take part in lately, my heart is a little heavy. I’ll distract myself with something for just long enough that the weight of reality comes crashing back down into me twice as hard. There’s no distraction in my hobbies lately, since I have trouble connecting with that. It’s why I came to write here, where I have a vague semblance of cohesively expressing how I feel with the understanding that I don’t have to worry about someone caring- I can yell into the void of the world wide web as much as I want, and it mostly all flies under the radar. Even reading and going outside just make me feel foggy. It’s like this issue is weighing on me so heavily that there is really little else that can take my mind off of it, because I only end up feeling worse once I remember where I am in life. 21-years-old and a socially unfortunate loser. The thought of it almost makes me want to take up drinking.
Even worse, physically it’s started to take its toll on me. Loneliness can kill you, you know. I can already feel it squeeze my heart in my chest, feel it turn my stomach. It could send me to an early grave. And worse yet, there’d be nothing I can do about it. I’ll just be a victim of circumstance.
But I think it’s fine that it’s happened like that. Everyone needs something to struggle with, and this one will be mine. I’m glad my heart doesn’t fill with envy when I see groups of friends or people in love strolling by, because I would love to experience the thrill of belonging just for one time, one day.
