I've had people come and go. The ones that go often vanish into the ether, without warning and without trace. I'm left to question what happened to them. Had something happened? Was it something I did? Were they just sick of me?
Other times it's a fading out and, in time, the person fades from view so completely that it's awhile before it actually registers.
This time wasn't like the others.
It started a few months ago. You see I'm not very social. I'm not good at making friends with actual people. Years of being bullied relentlessly pretty much killed my self confidence, not that I had any to begin with. On top of that I'm not a drinker so I don't go to bars or pubs. I go to gigs but I'm much to shy to talk to anyone unless they do it first and even then I get awkward and shy.
So I'm so fucking thankful for the intent. It's let me connect with people who share my interests without all that. To become friends with them without going thrugh that process so on the rare chances I do meet them that awkwardness is largely gone.
But yeah, most of the time, I'm alone, with no one here to interact with. That's not an exaggeration. I really do have no friends here. None that I could just go round and see or have over. Anyone that does come it takes weeks or even months of planning (bar when a certain American was in the uk and I had vists out of the blue). So when someone comes, I look forward to it, it breaks the lonliness.
At the end of January I had a friend due. It had been planned and looked forward to for months. The plan was she was going to stay a week. A week of being with somene, of showing around, of spending time with them. Having conversations with them. She arrived late Friday. Within little over 24 hours plans were made, but plans to leave. By lunchtime Sunday she was gone. I was disappointed, but I'd been told she was needed elsewhere. It was a lie.
While I am alone I ever really feel truly lonely. That week I did. I felt thee loneliest I'd felt in a long, long time.
A week later I found out the truth and even today, I don't know what bothers me most about it. The fact she lied? That the problem was something I could have worked on if only I'd been told? The hurt at being betrayed? I guess I'll never know.
That was the day it started to die for me. Although really it can be traced back further on her part of it. How far I do not know.
After that, silence. Well, silence compared to what we were like before. We talked practically daily but now it was once a week at best. I was mad, I was hurt but really, nothing was being done to fix it. Time heals they say. But I found it didn't. The healing process never really began. We'd been best friends but that was gone, the hurt destroyed it.
Time went on. Things remained the same. Communication was pretty sporadic and we did speak, well, the conversatations were pretty much short. In all the time since it happened I think we only ever had one real conversation the way it used to be.
The thing is, I could see it. I could see this friendship, this thing that we'd built. That had been wonderful and amazing. And I could see it fade away. Part of me hoped we could fix it, but that part became smaller and smaller every day. Until eventually... I stopped. I stopped hoping because I could see it was useless. As long as I hoped it kept it on life support, but it was too late.
For a long time I've wanted to get these feeling out. For weeks the thoughts have filtered into my mind out of the blue, whenever I've had time alone. But I kept holding that desire back. Maybe a small part of me still hoped things could be salvaged, but now... It's been close to a month since we've properly talked and now I just feel it's time to just... do this.
To just let the words out. To pull the plug and let it die. Let it die the death it should have died back then, close to four months ago instead of keeping the ridiculous fucking hope that it could survive.
Here's hoping that my mind will leave me alone about this now and that I can just move on without this hanging over me.