You know, I used to be that girl who talked to everyone all the time, everywhere before I got burned out. I was trying to be too many things to too many people and in the end, I ran. I ran like someone just told me that they’d seen stacks of cash in the near distance.
I felt like I was a magnet, constantly attracting non-magnetic objects. I was friends with people, but they weren’t friends with me. I was always there for people, but they were never there for me. I was the shoulder to cry on, but all I got was elbows to the face.
After that, the best decision was to get the fuck away. Anyone who wanted to talk to me would find a way.
Boy, were my eyes opened.
My newfound solitude was lonely at first, but eventually, I got used to it and here I am.
Occasionally, I fall into the habit. I disappear and when I emerge I realise that so much has happened. Life changes so quickly and these days, you’ve got social media to help you keep up but on those days when I’m like fuck this there is no social media, no news, no nothing. Quite what I do on those days is a mystery to me. It’s like a vacuum in my mind where everything vanishes and I wake up three days later and I’m like, damn, where did the time go.
I think a lot of this is down to how much we are encouraged to share about ourselves. I used to be that girl that shared every single damn thought in my head. I was an open book until I realised that the more you share of yourself, the less you have to yourself. If that makes sense.
However, I often find myself looking at my life and I’m like, my gosh I’m boring. Eventually, I ask myself relative to who? We don’t tell people about the mundane shit we do. Like shopping, eating, drinking. Oh, wait, we do. Apparently that’s the interesting part.
Not for me.
Even with that in mind I still find myself comparing myself to other people. That person looks so put together and I look like shit. I went to school with her and she’s got her life together while I can barely dredge up an ounce of motivation. She’s really pretty and I look like I’ve been dragged through a hedge backward. He’s got tons of money and I struggle to buy food.
It’s hard not to look anywhere and find some kind of way in which you’re a failure.
Most days, I can deal with that. Life isn’t supposed to be easy. If it was it would be legal to sucker punch the next asshole who shoves past me at the train station.
Most days, I roll my eyes and tell myself that a picture doesn’t mean shit. An article is just a snapshot. Everything is just a tiny piece of a complicated puzzle.
Some days, though, I have to jump ship before I can drown. You know those days when a stupid picture of a Starbucks cup has you think I can’t remember the last place I even went anyway and suddenly I’m wasting my life, I’m not worthwhile, I don’t do anything for anyone, blah, blah, blah. Some days I have to avoid that and I just disappear.
I can’t tell you what I do on those days because time tends to fly by without stopping long enough for me to take a breath.
I haven’t worked out if that’s a good or bad thing.