Solitary

I had a pretty quiet day today, I hate days like that. When my day gets too quiet, the thoughts in my head get unbearably loud. Today I spent some time doing a case study and naturally they were lots of people there, all socializing and hanging out with their friends. Watching them made me aware of my own lack of social capacity. I have a long track record of being socially awkward, so I just did what I was told, then stepped outside. It was raining, and I walked down the street, noticing the gradual gentrification around me. I watched people living their lives while I caught the bus home from around the corner where I dropped out of college shortly after that time. I can't exactly remember the timeline but It was a period marked by isolation and a painful relapse that still echoes in my struggles with going back to school and loneliness. 

While I do have access to a car, parking downtown requires a miracle. I'm not a guy with any favor for him let alone a miracle so I left it at home. When I got home, I was already frustrated initiated an argument over a peanut based dish (despite my peanut allergy), which felt incredibly inconsiderate to have prepared. I jumped in my car and left. I grabbed some Wendy’s and ate it in the car. Later I visited a friend’s house (he’s out of town, so I checked in on his cat) and hung out for a couple of hours. After driving aimlessly for a while, hunger hit again, and I picked up some sushi, which I ended up eating alone by the side of the parkway.

Sitting in my car, eating sushi on this quiet day, the same overwhelming thought I’d been fighting all day became impossible to ignore my loneliness. The day had shoved a mirror to my face, and I couldn’t turn away or distract myself anymore. Eventually, I got home and collapsed on the couch, doomscrolling until I received a picture in my messages of me from five to seven years ago. A friend messaged, “Why do you look so young?” I joked, “You know how much hell I’ve been through since then?” and that triggered me all over again. Mind you this picture is just me smiling holding a kitten, the day this picture was taken was a very good day.

Since that picture, I’ve been through so much emotionally, financially, physically. I joked, “The only thing I haven’t lost since then is my hairline.” Sometimes I miss the old me because of what could have been and because it was a time before what did happen later on. Nostalgia is a trick, in addiction and recovery, reminiscing can be both comforting and painful. I’ve learned to overcome it, but it still lingers.

I get frustrated when I look back at where I came from and compare it to who I am now. I see nothing but muddy waters instead of a silver lining. I’m ashamed of the man I’ve become, trapped by bottled up rage and pain. I’m bitter, quick to lash out, always angry waiting for the slightest inconvenience to justify my fury. Sometimes I wonder if what I show to the world is genuine or just a mask.

I talk and think about being in hell every day, but deep down, I wish I was wrong. I look inside myself and dislike both the person I act like and the person I truly am. I wish I could rewind time, but even then, how could I have avoided it? Even if I hadn’t walked down the path of self abuse, I was already brewing with misery, insecurity, depression, and mental illness. I feel like I have been dying inside every day since then, yet I hold it in. I’ve carried a chip on my shoulder since. Long before I could even make my own mistakes, I was burned by the selfishness of others. Sometimes, when I look in the mirror, I see that child I once was and wish I could turn back the clock and do things differently. But it’s impossible. I was a kid none of it was my fault at the time, but it shaped me. I grew to earn this misery, and my soul feels confined in a small space, enough to fuel my rage. I’ve always hated feeling out of place because it drags me back to this painful place.