Well it’s 12:30 in the morning and I can’t sleep. I spent the weekend unpacking, putting stuff in some resemblance of order and hanging some stuff on the walls. I’m not married to the location of all my artwork, but I wanted to get it off the floor. I also went and bought a desk and a few bookshelves so that I could get me PC off the floor and unpack my books, CDs and DVDs. Thank goodness for Ikea. I couldn’t find a chair I liked for the desk so I’m sitting on a wine rack typing this post. The place is starting to take shape.
I think I will paint next weekend. I need these little projects to try and keep myself busy. It keeps me from realizing that I’m living by myself for the first time in my life. I know most of you will find it strange to hear that someone who is almost 40 years old is finally living by himself, but it’s the truth. I went from my parents house into the Navy and have had a roommate of some type, be it friend or lover, ever since. I’m not complaining about being alone, it’s just a new experience for me. I do think it will be good for me in the long run.
I think the hardest thing about living alone is cooking. I mean how do you make meals for one every night? I don’t. I do think I’m eating better. I tend to make a steak and have a salad as a side dish. Sometime I make a vegetable. I mean they don’t exactly design food for one. I guess that is why most single people tend to live on take out. There are some great places to eat around my house as well. I have to fight the urge to just go to Nations or the BBQ joint and get dinner nightly.
As I sit here and look out my window, peering through the cranes at San Francisco, I started to realize that I’m too much of a social creature to live by myself forever. I miss the meaningless conversations that happen when you live with someone. I miss the looks from across the room. I miss the sound and feel of having someone close. I miss the laughing, the complaining and having someone just to go to the movies with. I miss having to put the toilet seat down for someone in the house.
I know I need this time alone. I need this time to reflect, to think, to learn, to change. I was reading the latest post by the best writer I have ever read and it occurred to me how cowardly I have been in my relationships. Not just my sexual relationships, but in all my relationships. I have always kept people at a distance. I don’t let anyone inside. I never share the deep darkness that I feel inside. I never share the deep happiness I feel inside. I have never felt as though anyone understood or knew the real me. Even my “best friends” are kept at a distance from my inner feelings.
I’m not sure when I built this wall, but I realize that it has had a dramatic influence on my life to date. Is this the type of thing someone can change? I hope so. Does it just take meeting the right person? I don’t think so. There is a deep scar that caused me to put up this barricade and I don’t think one person will be able to break it down. Well maybe one person, me. They say that admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery. I hope they are right.
Now that I realize this that this barrier exists, I’m suddenly overwhelmed with a new fear. What if I have never let anyone know how I feel deep down inside, because I don’t feel deep down inside? Maybe I’m emotionally superficial and am incapable of feeling that deep, head over heals, let me share everything, fuzziness that envelops your senses. Maybe some people aren’t meant to experience emotions that way. Maybe I’m exactly what I’m supposed to be, what I’m capable of being. Maybe I have given all I can to all of my relationships and they have failed nevertheless. I wonder which it is, emotionally void or deeply scarred? Either way, that is my reason for solitude. I’m on a journey of self examination. Self realization. Growth.
Oh, and I bought a can opener so come on over and I will make you a tuna sandwich.
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