I can’t even fill one hand with the number of people that I talk to. That I have meaningful conversation with. Geez, even mindless small talk. What I would do for some mindless small talk right now. Even about the fucking weather.
I’ve always known that I spend too much time inside my own head. That can’t be healthy. And as people around me would say, wanting friends is a sign of recovery. (Haha, I just wrote symptom of recovery, and had to laugh at the irony). But I don’t know whether it’s a sign of recovery, or just wanting to be out of my own head for a while.
At the moment, I’m stuck between wanting to go out and do things and not going because I have no one to go with, and the thought of going by myself cripples me with fear.
And I don’t get it. People used to like me. I used to like people. I used to have something to do all the time. Sure, I was still depressed, and the Hazel that showed up at high school parties was the same Hazel that would sit at home and cry every night, but I at least had places to go. I felt like I had options. And now I don’t. I’m feeling like Rapunzel stuck in her tower, except there’s no way in hell a Prince is coming to rescue me.
There is a huge part of me that is saying wait. Wait until you go back to school. School = friends, right? Except that didn’t work so well the last 3 times, so I have my doubts. There is a huge part of me that is saying go home. Go home to your mother, and your little brother and the family that is there. Even if it means going home with your tail between your legs, and admitting your mistakes. There is a massive part of me that is screaming in my face, telling me that I have always been isolated, and I always will be. That’s the part that scares me the most.
Because that’s the thing about isolation – you are alone. There’s something incredibly terrifying about that. My worst fear has always been loneliness, yet here I am. I told myself I would never be alone. But I have discovered that I can feel just as lonely in a crowd full of people as I do sitting in my room.
I just want options. I want choice. I want someone to look me in the eyes and tell me that I exist.