There are times when I can’t help but feel like it’s all my fault that I’m alone. It’s like I’ve made this choice to walk this lonely road, even though deep down, it gnaws at my very being. I’ve become pretty damn good at keeping people at arm’s length, building these walls that seem impossible to tear down.
Being on my own most of the time, I find myself introspecting on my own journey. The ebb and flow of humanity surrounds me, each person engrossed in their unique story and connections. Meanwhile, I linger on the sidelines, aware that my solitude is of my own making. It’s not that I go unnoticed; I’ve honed the art of blending into the background, almost as if I prefer not to reveal my true self to others. Somewhere along the way, I convinced myself that solitude was preferable, shielding me from potential hurt or disappointment, believing vulnerability was a flaw to avoid.
As I step outside and witness the tender moments shared by others, their laughter echoing through the air, I can’t help but feel a pang of loneliness deep within me. It’s undeniable that seeing such connections stirs emotions within, making me question why I haven’t found that kind of connection myself. In these vulnerable moments, I find myself grappling with self-doubt, questioning my worthiness of love, and even entertaining the notion that some inherent flaw is driving others away.
Yet, as the world bustles around me, a deafening silence permeates my relationships. I can’t help but acknowledge the role I played in pushing my closest friends away. I convinced myself that hiding my true self was a safer choice, only to realize now that it has resulted in this painful distance between us. I begin to question whether this self-imposed isolation serves me well. I know that there’s beauty in connecting with others, sharing experiences, and embracing the spectrum of emotions that make us human.
The weight of self-blame hangs heavy on my shoulders, reinforcing my isolation. I beat myself up for not having the guts to break free from this self-imposed prison, for not taking the risk to form real connections. I see others thriving in their relationships, and it’s a constant reminder of what I’m missing out on.
But even in the midst of my self-blame, there’s this underlying loneliness that just won’t go away. Despite all the choices I’ve made, the walls I’ve built, the ache for human connection persists. It’s a messed-up paradox—a loneliness that I’ve inflicted upon myself but can’t seem to escape.
So, here I am, trudging along this lonesome path, wrestling with the contradictions of my own making. I’ll take the blame. I’ll accept it, but damn, it doesn’t make it any less lonely.
