I'm not where I want to be. Where I am, it is not winter and not spring, and definitely not summer. It is not freedom. It is not blue skies and blooming flowers. It is chilly dreary weather. It is grey skies that have been with us since October. It is reading, papers, exams that no longer hold value to me.
I'm not with who I want to be with. The friend who so easily laughed with me...he has found other friends more similar, who can take off on a weekend. The friends here do not listen; they talk, they talk, but they do not listen to me and when they pretend they do, they promptly forget afterward. The friend who listens to me and remembers and cares about my troubles...I have none here and perhaps I do not have any at all, anywhere.
What am I doing? Distracting myself by constantly switching to other things, by forgetting myself through other people's lives, by convincing myself that if I had this dress, or if I was this way, or if I had done this, I would be different, I would be surrounded by fun, caring friends.
Perhaps it is not fair to measure one's life this way. Perhaps it is not fair to esteem one's relations by public displays of affection, online or offline. Perhaps, perhaps. Perhaps...but why do I have no recollection of the last ten days? Nothing of particular happened, no one of particular figures in my memory. Have I made myself invisible in a shadowy corner of this world? I need to do something. To get in touch with people, to get in touch with the world. It feels as though I am alone, alone in a misty fog through which I sense the presence of others. I want to shout, but I know no one will stop to listen, or care to remember when they turn to walk away. Or perhaps I have nothing worthy to say and to be remembered.
I am listless, restless, wandering.
photo via...I don't know.