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Hurry up & wait. . .
Run to class, wait for it to get over because it’s something boring that could have been done in half the time if instructors didn’t insist on hand-holding. . . Rush home & get food made, just to feel the let down when it’s time for the handsome husband to jet off to work.
Boring, lonely evenings at home. With the dog. Who isn’t enough company, no matter what people try to say about the joy of dogs. . . It might all be true, but he’s still a dog.
The handsome husband finally gets home, but as I am waking up, he is needing to go to sleep. Again, I am by myself. He might be home, but he is unavailable. . . Not able to really be present.
Then, he is waking up, but I am too tired to stay up with him. So, I go to bed by myself, cursing that I am tired because he is awake. Then, again, I wake up as he is going to sleep. . .
It’s a vicious cycle. . . I’m sick of it. It’s no one’s fault, necessarily. But I am just done.
I’ve cried entirely too many tears over loneliness. It’s ridiculous.
I am in the middle of one of the happiest times of my life, yet you wouldn’t know it from the amount of tears that fall.
Make new friends. . . Sure. I have. But someone I met a mere few months ago isn’t someone I am going to go & pour my heart out to. . . Plus, they’re still new friends. You don’t want to come across as too desperate or needy. . . Where is that line. . . that delicate balance between invitations & waiting to be invited? Between taking charge & being too bossy? It’s all a factor. . . Don’t try to say I am over-thinking things, because I know this is one case where I am not. It’s just a fact of life.
Then, even if I crave human interaction beyond the trivial crap that happens in the day-to-day with strangers, there remains the fact that I still find it draining. I am the type of person that actually enjoys having mostly alone-time. . . But I still need a certain balance.
I either stay up too late because I can’t quiet my mind of all the things floating around it that I feel I can’t share, or I force myself to bed WAY too early because I am tired of all of those same things over-staying their welcome in my thoughts. Where is that balance?
In those few rare moments when I actually get to see the handsome husband & we both are able to be awake — together, at the same time! — I feel like I force him to the point of tuning me out because he is so bombarded, because who else am I going to talk to?
There’s only so much “talking” I can do with my best of friends since they all live forever away. Phone conversations or Facebook messaging will only take you so far. . . & even with that, I feel like I am verbally vomiting all over them too. I feel like a burden when that happens.
Then, more tears.
Sure. . . There are plenty of things to do to occupy my time between homework & housework. But it’s FAR from being a cure-all. At least with homework, I have a satisfactory grade to show for it. . . With housework, it is really only noticed if I don’t do it — or if I suddenly do it after NOT doing it for a while. It’s negative reinforcement with that, no matter how you look at it. . . All of it is busy work, no matter what. Seemingly meaningless. What does it matter?
So, I go through phases of nearly manic housework or homework, followed by phases of, basically saying, “Fuck it all!” when things just don’t get done. Again, a vicious cycle with no balance. . .
What is the purpose of this? I suppose it doesn’t really have one except that I obviously needed to bitch. . . & I obviously needed to get this crap out of my mind — even if its choppiness & ridiculousness has the potential to thoroughly embarrass me for weeks & weeks to come. Eh. At least it’s truthful. We’ll see if getting it out of my brain — for however briefly — actually proves to be as therapeutic as I can hope or if it’s an extremely brief respite from crying by myself — just like homework & housework, except more embarrassing. . .