I keep opening this page to try to write something but I can never conjure up enough coherent thought to do it. I'm determined to talk tonight though, I can't keep up this wall of silence if I want to be some version of myself worth working on.
I'm thinking a bit about the past tonight. I was looking at old photos of myself from 2021-2023 (I'm thinking of cutting my hair in a few months) and naturally that's a tough time to pick photos from. I don't feel like the same person. That person feels like a forgein entity, it's like I'm looking at photos on Pintrest or something. That person isn't me. I don't know them or what they're thinking...but I do see a light in my eyes in those photos that has definitely gone the fuck out. I guess losing what you love will do that to you.
I don't think about Judy much anymore; that's what my partner and I call all of it, from start to finish, and them. Judy, because "we're not going to talk about Judy, in fact, we're not going to talk about Judy at all." And for the most part, we don't, unless one of us is distraught and caught up in the past. Judy came and went. It was a chosen family until it wasn't. It was everything I wanted, but at the expense of everyone involved, I think. Judy was the happiest time in my life. I had a loving partner, and two best friends. And now I have a loving partner, two fewer best friends, and no chosen family.
It was my fault. I loved our friendship so much I held on too tightly and broke it, smashed it into a million unrecoverable pieces. True dumbass behavior on my part and something I can never apologize for. I'll never see them again. I guess that's for the best for everyone but I still feel the abscence of them from time to time. Weirdly, not tonight, but it's important to give things context, I think.
What I'm really thinking about is how to marry the pieces of myself I feel I've broken into. There's the me from before, and the me of the present. The me of the present is a much more mature, capable, thoughtful, stoic, and stable version of myself. Less joyful, less animated, less talkative (unless I'm behind a screen), and less present. I spend a lot of time floating between tasks, sort-of detatched from it all and just biding time until something more engaging happens. I finally feel my age; I go to appointments, I fill out forms, I pay bills, etc. I do adult things and have adult thoughts, caution, and cynicism. The world is no longer a beautiful place but it's a fascinating one; my perspective is much broader and tempered now. I don't volunteer information about myself anymore. I don't really engage with people at all, honestly, but I still love them; humans are unique little weirdos and I want to explore all of their machinations and inner worlds...but...at the same time, I'm truly not sure if I'm compatible with other people as a concept.
I feel like a fucking alien and that's such a "generic autism" thing to say but it's true. Maybe a ghost would be a better comparison. I'm always surfing the indie web, lurking on social media, watching people in public, observing my friends...I want that soul-level connection with others. That platonic feeling of seeing and being seen, of sharing, of the free flow of thoughts and feelings in a safe place with safe people. I miss the safety of others and the joy of being a safe person. But at the end of the day, all I have is the lingering weight of knowing that the safety I felt with Judy was probably a fucking delusion I created by overinvesting in blind faith and trust.
And therein lies the heart of the issue. I don't trust people anymore. I don't really want to be around them IRL. The people around me don't want to connect and I don't want to push that. I'm tired and ultimately it doesn't feel productive anymore. What's the point? The people I trusted to love me didn't even like me. You don't just recover from that revelation.
I hate to think that I'm sabotaging social opportunities by giving in to this indifference and procrastination but I'm literally stuck. I don't want to go out into the world and meet other people. I don't care if they see me because what's here feels incomplete, caustic, and dangerous. I like who I am and who I was, but I don't think other people do. On some level, that's okay, but sometimes, like tonight, as I'm winding down for the night, I remember what it was like to be the me from a few years ago. I miss their confidence, their passion, their empahty, and most importantly, their heart.
I guess we all ended up with matching busted hearts.