I stayed up late to finish a book I started, it’s 2:49 am now. I feel like I usually do after finishing a book, which is empty. The characters had a beginning and an end to their stories but I am still here.
I have always been attached to my books; I think they aren’t just a mean of escape but also a way for me to momentarily live through someone else’s life and feel their emotions. I get to be mad, sad, surprised, shocked, depressed, exhausted, loved and much more through reading 400 pages of words; that’s a dozen more emotions than what I experience on a daily basis.
I think the character in this book especially resonated with me and it just made it worse for me. Usually after finishing a book, I automatically start a new one, right now I don’t feel doing that. I just keep on thinking about my emotional state and the lack of romantic relationship in my life. I have never really thought that I needed a partner but once in awhile, after work, I think I would really like to share my thoughts with someone I am emotionally attached to whose not a parent or a friend. I would like to be a total goof and a bit philosophical, play video games and possibly cuddle, but as soon as I think that, I tell myself that I am better alone simply because being with someone would mean that I have to open up and share my feelings.
I don’t share my thoughts or feelings, at least not meaningful ones. I don’t like trusting people because it only leads to disappointment and no one has proven me otherwise so far but then again, I don’t give them the time to.
I have been in relationships but I didn’t like being in them. The conversations became a routine, same as the activities. I don’t like a static relationship, but then again it may be because I just prefer my own company.
A few weeks ago, I noticed that I found this guy attractive; not sure why. Maybe it was his genuine smile when I said hi and made eye contact, it’s rare to see one these days. Maybe it was because he seemed so mature compared to the other peeps around him. It may have been his voice or the fact that he actually looked at me, paid attention to me and studied me while I was explaining to him and apologizing for making wait for the paperwork, which wasn’t even my fault as he didn’t give a notice that he would stop by my office. . He seemed like a genuine nice human being, for once.
I emailed him later, for help, genuine help and a bit of interest. He was kind enough to help and I appreciated it, but a part of questioned what I was doing. I knew he was in no way interested about the fact that I am alive and if it wasn’t because of work, we would never talk to each other; not because he wouldn’t want to, but because I wouldn’t have known that he existed. I ignore most people unless they are in need of help; it’s safer that way. Socializing is hard. So I can honestly say, that’s the most interest I have had in almost a year. Don’t think it will change, and now it’s 3:16 am.
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