I had a realization today.
I realized that I have no friends.
That seems like a stretch, right? But it’s true.
I know people. Don’t get me wrong. I know all sorts of people. But I have no friends. Even some of you: Acquaintances at the very best. But not friends.
Look at it this way: There are eight actual people that I “know” here in my city. I know their names; I have past experience with them; I’ve shared food, I’ve shared company, Hell, — I’ve even shared a bed with some of them. And yet, not a single one of them calls me up and says “Hey! What are you doing? Let’s go do something this weekend…” No movies, no dinners, no parks, no bikes, no hiking, ……… nothing.
No, I get it.
Really I do.
I’m not a fun person. I’m not someone you want to spend time with.
I really, very much, believe that I am not someone that is worth being around. You are not at fault for not thinking of me and wanting to do things with me. This is not a whinge or a whine… it is just a very simple fact: You are completely justified in dismissing me utterly. It’s not even vindictive on your part. You genuinely don’t even have a single thought about me. It’s not malicious at all. I’m completely off your radar. — And that’s OK. I understand. I get it. Really I do. And I hold no blame at all against you.
Is this loneliness? — For ages, I’ve said that “I am alone. I am not lonely.” And for the first time I wonder: Is this loneliness? Is that what this is? I have absolutely no one to go do ANYTHING with. No one at all. Is that what loneliness is? No connection. No lines of attachment. Isolation and independence in the purest sense.
Time passes, and hours are complete unto themselves. They are what hours are. Ages and lifetimes live in the moments that we ignore. I am completely alone, and that is appropriate. I have done this to myself. For good, or for ill, I have chosen my path. I am responsible. I claim it and own it. There is no blame but that it is my own and it belongs to me. — Is this loneliness?
No one invites me anywhere. No one seeks my company. No one in interested in me. — There are those who would hear my name and be glad to see me. They would say “There you are! What’s going on with you?” But day-to-day, in casual passing, there is no one that wonders about me. I am on no one’s radar.
I could shoot myself in the head tonight. Tomorrow, because I have the day off, no one at all will wonder about me. The next day, it will be curious that I didn’t show up to work, but really, it will produce only mild concern. No one outside of my “responsibility” will wonder about me. The next day….. didn’t show up to work? Should we be concerned? Another day: Where is he? Nothing. It will take days and days for anyone to give a single, solitary fuck about me.
And that’s just a fact: I am absolutely not blaming anyone. I’ve done this to myself and I know it. I’ve been distant; I’ve been unattached; I’ve been stand-offish. I’ve cultivated my very own situation and there is no blame but that which I have upon my own head.
Should I do it? That’s not a real question. You don’t have to answer. I wonder if dying would make any difference at all. I am the embodiment of insignificance. And that’s just true. Nothing I do has the lightest significance. There is no impact in my life. There is no value. I make no valuable mark on the essence of the society or the planet… much less the solar system, or the galaxy. There is no value in me. There is wretchedly nothing. Absolutely and blindingly… nothing.