thanks, anon. :)
Having one of those nights where your heart has descended into your stomach and you feel like nothing is right and you’re not sure if anything will ever be right but still, you are hopeful and patient; waiting without pressure thinking maybe, in the end, everything will turn out the way you want it to.
At least that’s what we tell ourselves in moments like this. We convince ourselves the sadness will eventually dissipate and that everything will be okay. It will be but not without a lot of heartache or forgiveness first. Love is such a tricky thing. It can feel so certain, so secure, in one second then be completely fleeting in the next.
In a moment you can plan on spending whole lives with another person; the kind of city you’ll live in; the types of things you’ll do together in the future, thinking that maybe for the first time in a long time, or ever, you could finally get comfortable here in this emotion. Maybe you can spend a little time here, you think, and let that guard down. But then realize in an instant that the other person probably wasn’t thinking anything like that at all.
I’m not sure if I will ever figure other people out; their line of thinking, their actions, their secrets. People are mysterious, that’s for sure, but I wish it didn’t come with such a hefty price tag.
I’ve spent every Thanksgiving alone for the past four years because I didn’t have anyone to spend it with but this year I was with someone special and it made all the difference.
I think there’s a certain numbness that comes when the holidays approach for those of us who are left alone every year, those of us who are without family and friends to invite us in. Holidays are treated with a sort of nonchalant attitude. It’s a quiet day. The day comes and goes without much action. It’s a day of solitude, reflection, and self repair in some ways.
The first year alone was hard and sad and there were lots of tears but then I just sort of got over it. I accepted my family was dead or too far away or emotionally unavailable and that all of my friends had moved across the country or weren’t around. I got used to being alone and used to doing my own thing.
The second year I decided to make my own traditions. I made my own large meal with all my favorites, watched my favorite holiday movies, read trashy paperback novels, listened to music and thought about life. I guess I treated it as a sort of second birthday in the way you feel entitled to have and do your favorite things, just in a lonelier fashion.
I really don’t mind being alone, on holidays or not, but with that said, it was nice this year to have the silence interrupted. For the first time in a long while I felt like I was with family.
I rush to my gate only to realize I have an extra 45 minutes to waste. I sit down, fidgeting nervously. Children are screaming. I hear languages I don’t know how to speak. Loud voices over the intercom are hurting my ears.
I read signs I can barely understand. Flashes of college Spanish class run through my mind but nothing materializes. I smile at the little flat-faced girl next to me wearing turquoise bracelets but her mother sees me and frowns. I find a different seat.
In the Airport - Thought Catalog
The loneliest times are when I’m in a room surrounded by a group of people.
I wrote about addiction, my brother, and loving addicts here.