I have a few friends. I think. I mostly have a contact museum in my phone of numbers that probably don’t belong to the same people anymore. There could be many reasons for this. The main one being obvious: I’m a bad friend. But relationships do go both ways…
If you were to ask anyone I have ever known about me, they would all have something different to say. Only a few would have a few similarities. Is it weird that I get a little joy out of that?
I like collecting things that I might need later. Lately I noticed I treat friends like the objects I collect. I make note of their skills, add them to a list, and file their information away for future reference. The thing is though, I never use them. I never ask them for anything. I just get satisfaction out of knowing (or assuming) that they’re there if I need them. Reality is that nobody waits forever. Especially when they realize what you’re keeping them around for.
I’m an introvert 100%. I prefer to be alone. But I look around at the couples celebrating anniversaries and I wonder what it would be like if I were normal and could be with somebody. It’s more daydreaming actually than wondering, to be honest.
Every blue moon a guy will come along and I’ll get crazy nervous and take steps into building a relationship, but it doesn’t take long at all before I realize, if I really opened up to him, he’d run. Plus, I think long-term and realize I couldn’t be tied down for too long. So I back off or end it if it’s gone too far, and I slither back into my shell. I do believe everyone has a dark side, but I’m just not sure about their limits. What would they say if I told them I barely had any? I’m a good person with very dark tendencies (I’m leaving it at that) and an even darker past.
I want companionship, but only every now and then. I love being alone with my cats. I crave it. But once a month or so, I’d like to snuggle up with somebody who accepts the real me. Is that even possible?
I’ve been through the labels: anxiety, introversion, agoraphobia, social anxiety… and what’s the point? What does all of this prove? Am I still trying to find myself or am I just afraid of revealing who I really am? Is it me or is it the society I always blame?