Wearing a pair of earrings that were given to me today at work as a Saint Patrick’s Day gift and with the nails on my left hand done up pretty with glittery polish, I admire my makeup job in the mirror and tell myself this is the kind of woman I am. I’ve been angry for the past couple of days, feeing neglected even though it’s far from the truth. I need attention but I want to be left alone. This is how I get.

I blame it on all of the toxic relationships I’ve had in the past when pain was synonymous with love and I didn’t know how to function without it. Sometimes life feels a bit off kilter if I’m hurting, if I’m not anxious, if I’m afraid and it bothers me that none of this bothers me.

So many mornings and afternoons I’m more complacent sitting in my car reading or journaling instead of making connections with people whose attitudes and behaviors I perceive to be fake. At my age I would just as soon be left alone. I have no circle and I can’t say this upsets me. Sure there’s people whose company I enjoy more than others, people whom I would never tell to piss off should they sit down beside me and begin to ramble senselessly about their day, their life, as so often happens. But I want something more.

I want to meet someone whose passion for the ocean is as strong as mine, someone who loves to stand in the darkness and watch the stars. People who truly adore these things and not just say they do. I want to meet someone who always seems to gravitate to pen and paper when the spoken word just won’t do. Someone who, like me, stops what they’re doing frequently to jot down that thought they just had with the intentions of expanding on it later in private instead of rambling it off to whoever may be nearby. I want to meet someone who had the same passion for words as I do but whom also finds themselves at a loss often, just like me.

But there’s not many others like me. None that I have met in person at least. Would it be vain of me to say that I have one of those personalities that makes others want to imitate it? Because it’s true. I seem to attract people who suddenly take up journaling and reading and extended periods of silence once they’ve spent a bit of time with me. It never really lasts for very long, their true personality comes out eventually and I hate to say but it disappoints me. It’s nice to think there’s someone else in the world who is like me, someone who understands me, but it just never lasts.


One thought on “Lost

  1. Boy, Angie. Do I know EXACTLY what you mean. We’re such dichotomies. “At my age, I would just as soon be left alone.” I have always said that I would rather be alone than be surrounded by people I didn’t like…or who made me feel alone.
    I can’t stand the fake, mundane shit that people try to parlay into “friendship.”
    But, I think writing helps us. Hell, we can always contrive a friend….huh?
    Hugs, honey.


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