How to feel alone at twenty one; strike one.
It’s Saturday night and I’m sat up on my own blogging. Talking to my laptop because I don’t have anyone else to talk to. I should be out with a group of friends, or even in with a group of friends having a good time. I should be celebrating that summer is here and I’ve made it through my exams alive. My exams finished on Thursday at five o’clock. I’ve not felt a single ounce of freedom or relief since. I haven’t gone out and celebrated. I haven’t celebrated at all. There’s so much pressure to go out that I respond in contradictory ways. Right now, I’d give anything to be out with a friend, let alone a group of friends. When you’re quite introverted, you make friends with the same interests; for me, books and well, being introverted itself really. Then you end up in this cycle of being on your own and then being with people who like being on their own too.
It’s often hard to find a balance between extrovert and introvert. I don’t feel particularly comfortable going out generally anymore and I haven’t done for a long time now. I read books when I’m alone, they stop me from feeling lonely and then of course, I want to be left alone to read my books. It’s a vicious cycle.
How to feel alone at twenty one; strike two.
At twenty one, I just can’t wait to be a few years older yet I tire of feeling old. Like I’m not really being twenty one at all. I don’t want to be where I am, I want to start chasing down my job, I want to start settling down into the woman I know one day I will be. I want to leap before I look and just get the hell on with things. I always feared turning twenty. Twenty one is just as stagnant. Sometimes I feel particularly detached from my age group, worrying I’m turning into my mom before my time. I’ve started to genuinely love my job again, because I’m around loads of people for the majority of the day.
How to feel alone at twenty one; strike three.
I am not Dorothy and this is not The Wizard of Oz. There is no place called home, let alone like home. It comes as part of being a student, it comes as part of always striving to be too independent. My student house is a house, not a home. I don’t have family there, or even many comforts. I’ve come home for a few days and I haven’t been here since this time last month. The thrill lasted all of ten minutes. Conversation is forced. Everyone went to bed early. My mom told me I am leaving on Tuesday, there’s no invitation to stay longer. Everything is just a shadow of the time it was before. Nothing is the same. I often look back and wish I had moved away for university, because I’m so sick of being in Birmingham and hearing about Birmingham that the impulse to just sod off somewhere is forever increasing.
At twenty one, the world is supposed to be at your feet and you’re supposed to be inventing yourself. You’re also ‘supposed’ to be doing a million and other one things, according to a million and one expectations. Some of those are from society, some from your peers and some from yourself. At twenty one, I often wish I was different and had done things differently. Somewhere along the way I’ve lost what I’ve been creating. Most of all, I just want to find some comfort in this loneliness. Hopefully I’ll even learn that it’s okay to be alone, even when I’m physically not. Maybe I’ll snap out of this soon, regain all my confidence and go and get drunk at Subway City/Subculture a few weekends in a row. Because that was a time where I felt like I had it all together instead of feeling like I’m nothing better than a couple of mismatched jigsaw puzzles that have been forced to fit together.