I’ve made a decision to come here and write, after a second consecutive day of doing little more than lounge around on the settee. Why I’m here, I don’t now. I’m struggling to make sense of all that’s been bothering me the last few days but even if I’m able to organise it all on this screen, then why am I doing it? What’s the purpose? What will I gain that will prevent me from doing the same next weekend?
I’ve been reflecting quite heavily on efforts I’ve made in the previous two years to try and help myself; namely counselling and attending self-help courses in CBT. All I’ve really learned is that I don’t want to help myself; that I have not done any of this for myself. Each time, I’ve secretly been doing it the hope that someone would love me and perhaps view me slightly differently to the person they already know.
There’s something I’m afraid to write and I don’t think I’m going to share it in this post either. Does that mean I’m afraid to face up to it? At the same time, I strongly believe it will happen some day.
I’ve been entertaining thoughts about doing more self-help and yet, my ambition remains the same. This isn’t to help me. I’m questioning the significance in helping yourself when you spend so much time alone anyway. If I’m broken inside or whatever, at least I’m not a threat to anyone else.
What keeps me going?
Hope. I’m aware of the fortunes I’ve had in meeting several women in the last 2½ years, yet I am still single and alone. What’s not helped me personally this weekend is to learn that someone I am fond of is suddenly dating someone new. I feel overlooked and I fear being replaced and unwanted. Inside, I know I don’t have the energy or will to meet anyone new – for fear that I’ll only end up with the usual round of disappointment. There is still one star in my sky I hold out for… It’s very distant and a very recent discovery. There’s every chance it’ll be gone before I get to glimpse it again but it feels like this is the only reason I continue. Once that fades, I just don’t know.
Am I seeking attention with this post? And, if I am then, respectfully, what good are the words and sympathies from people I’ll never know? Sorry, that sounds harsh.
What does the real world care? As long as I’m on time tomorrow morning and don’t clock out early at the end of the week… We’re set free at the weekends but they know where we belong.
I feel there’s more I could right here but the words have departed. However high I get, I will always fall back down. But what’s the point of climbing back up when you don’t enjoy your destination?