I’m on Day 3 of some sort of stomach ailment. I assumed that it was due to my attempt to take an antidepressant. I assumed my body rejected the medication, but after three days of not being able to hardly keep anything down, I’m thinking it might actually be a bug of some sort. Either way, I decided, after tossing my cookies (though there were none to be tossed) in the shower that today was a good day to stay home.
The silence that surrounds me in my home, without my Pepper to keep me company, is…paralyzing. A reminder of how alone I am in this city full of people. A reminder that things go on without me… I am not the center of anybody’s existence. I am just one more person taking up space on this big blue ball that orbits the sun. And not that much space, not in the big scheme of things.
It doesn’t help that I’m sitting here, eagerly awaiting some sort of contact from my friend, the one I hurt so bad. The one to whom I’ve tried to apologize, and to whom I’ve bared my soul on more than one occasion. The one who told me he wanted things to be the way they were in the beginning as much as I did… that’s another bad paraphrase, but it’s the basic point.
Sitting here in the deafening silence of my little existence, trying not to toss anymore proverbial cookies, I find myself wondering if it wasn’t really all just a dream. Because it seems to me that I’m the only one trying to get it back to the way it was. I’m the only one reaching out to open the communication. In order to get back to the way things were, I can’t be the only one communicating.
But he chased me so much in the beginning. Beginnings are so much more fun than endings…
And while I keep trying to tell myself this isn’t the end of something, I keep wondering, why am I the only one trying? Why am I always the one who apologizes? And why, even though I’ve said a hundred times, that I need some affirmation that I matter just a little, am I still sitting here waiting to hear something, anything?
I’ve admitted my mistakes. I’ve made the attempts to be “friends” first. I’ve tried to maintain communication. And while I sometimes think I can sense something from him, it’s so rare that I wonder if I’m not making it up.
Maybe it’s time to realize that his silence is just as real as the silence that surrounds me in this tiny little apartment, and I am alone.
Very, very alone.