Hopita (hopita) wrote,

The walls are closing in

Insomnia is not my friend, and yet we seem to spend an inordinate amount of time together.

I lie in bed, stare at the ceiling, and feel the walls closing in. The walls of my life ... the lines between visions of my future and fantasy ... I have a friend who talks a lot about "visualization" and I try to think of it that way, but tonight, it all just feels like an escapist crock of shit.

I'm pondering a lot of questions. Questions about unavailable men and drugs. Questions about brain damage. Playing unpleasant little blame games in my head: It's my fault because I did this, it's my fault because I said that ...

I remember one woman at Antioch who said she thought I was "aloof." I found that absurd; I thought I was shy. But now I think maybe I'm just used to this feeling of loneliness. Like this past Monday, at my friend's benefit concert: there were lots of people there that I knew peripherally, and maybe only four or five who I'd ever had any sort of real conversation with. And I talked to that handful of people, those "friendly acquaintances", and then I did what I seem to end up doing so often when I'm in a crowd: I sat on the sidelines and felt lonely and sorry for myself.

True, I was also feeling sorry for myself because there was someone that I'd expected to see (or at least hear from) who ended up pulling a disappearing act, but really, that was just the base note of depression. And it made me think of Chicago and how mysterious it seemed to me that so many neighborhood people all seemed to have such close friendships and yet I felt relegated to the sidelines. Years later Chicago Bob let me in on the secret: they'd all gone to The Art Institute of Chicago together and thus had the shared history and camaraderie that comes from being students together. At the Patti Smith concert last night, I wondered aloud to zostrianos if maybe a lot of those Quiet Storm people knew each other from school. He wasn't so sure.

So hey, in true LiveJournal fashion, I suppose what this really is is a plea for someone to play with. Does anyone want to be my friend? Because even though I seem to have stopped with the sobbing and the irrational phone calls, I'm still just a really sad girl these days.
Tags: antioch, bob herries, chicago, drugs, friends, h.w.s.r.n., insomnia, loneliness, music, patti smith, quiet storm, relationships, sad, zostrianos

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