As the summer months roll by with little pomp and few circumstances a few fellows of the season have taken care to stop by. Heat, boredom, and sloth have all made there way through my doors on multiplicitous occasions, but by far the most talkative visiter has been Loneliness. I say talkative because it has not necessarily been the longest staid of the lot, but rather it has drawn my attention and rumiment to it with greatest proficiency, opening a sort of discourse in my mind. It is the strange aspect of the season that it is the time most craved by work-burdened youth, yet upon its attainment often falls into the dread clutches of solitarity. I remember in my past between sessions of camp and burbling activity the taught silence of oppressive singularity.
Somehow never enough free time can be filled with good company, other than, perhapse, with a friend or lover of particular dedication. That particular thought is what draws my mind most, the need not only to be with some people, but to be with someONE. I have no, nor have I had, a singular focus of my complete attentions, lest not one fully embraced. Partnership, in all its glorious forms, eludes me. The realization of this gap in my satisfaction prevents me from lying happily alone among my own activities, yet struggles in awkward equilibrium with the equally inhibitory aspect of social self-deprivation. To be shy is the curse of doubt, and one which can grate away even the most resolute of singular motivations. Having but few friends in my home town, and even those somewhat estranged, I have few paths toward a broadening social horizon.
My problem is, quite simply, never knowing where to start. I begin doubting the value of any effort towards meeting people long before I ever consciously consider it. “What do I have to say, anyway?” “What if they are completely different from you?” “What if they ignore you?” “What if they pay attention to you?” “Why even try,” the questions are like a pelting hailstorm obscuring my view of the branching social road ahead, leading me to always tread the path made for one, rather than venturing into the winding paths of possibility. I fear awkwardnes with those I do not know, and as such I instinctively avoid it. The other half of the problem is equally simple yet daunting, I have no idea where to go to meet people like myself. I simply fall upon the conclusion that they are all probably either cooped up in their room, cuddling with their laptops like myself, or out somewhere with a group of friends that would easily scare me off from any interaction.
My insecurity holds me down and tightens the straps of excuse and procrastination even as I type these words: oh world, where have all the extroverts gone? If I can find that out, then perhapse they will introduce me to their friends.
To be continued…
sunset
