While I was at my mom's house for a visit a few weeks ago, she told me that she labored for 19 hours straight with me; she said I just didn't want to come out. Didn't "feel" like coming out, is how she put it, I think.
That sounds supremely accurate, but I also knew that in my little baby brain, although it was warm and nice in the womb and I was surely living my bestest life, that there would have been a little voice going yeah, but it would be kinda more fun if someone else was here too. And there, I'm certain, was the birth of the duality that I was born with. The loneliest socialite a-fuckin-live.
I'm a Gemini, obviously. I should have been born a twin; there's just far too much of me. Do you know how it feels to be born too much? It's one of those things that other people think is funny, but high key just sucks.
My whole life I longed for a companion. Someone that I could tell everything to, because so much was happening all the time, and it made my tiny little head spin. I was an only child with a spirit that needed constant interaction, and my mother really didn't know how to handle it. The noble Leo, stubborn and solace. She knew how to find comfort inwards, and did not understand my constant need for companionship.
"You love company too much", or "Learn to have fun by yourself" were common phrases that I grew to detest.
I remember one time actually trying to take her advice, and going to my room to "keep my own company". I read books, played around, undressed my barbies, but I felt like I was fucking dying. I still feel this way sometimes today, while numbly thumbing through instagram for the fourth time in two minutes after 26 hours without human interaction. It feels like trying to distract myself from the fact that I losing my fucking mind.
But here's the catch: I love being alone. But this goes both ways. I love being alone for good and bad reasons. The good reasons are for the same reasons that most people like to be alone: to reconnect, to clear my head, to spend some time with me. That's the good shit. The bad shit is more difficult to explain. I'll first list some possible options for my unhealthy relationship with loneliness:
When I was nineteen I fell in hella love. It was the most beautiful feeling in the world. We both were hurting, and found safe spaces in each other to talk about it. It felt like healing. We would make up stupid shit, and laugh a lot. He felt like my brother, and my protector, while also being my lover. Our relationship was sweet, and deep, and he cried when he missed me. He called me "Loe-Loe" which no one had ever thought to do before, and that made me feel special in a dumb, new way. We would make fried oreos in my apartment really late at night, and makeout in the living room at his mom's house. His skin also smelled really nice, and I even loved his morning breath and I hated morning breath. Actually, nope, I just hate breath in general. His, though? His I inhaled. He was delicious, and I was absolutely obsessed with him. We would have sex at least four times a day, and the very first time I gave him head, I sank to my knees, stuck out my tongue and went"spit". He had a sweet, silly, hearty laugh like an obese black cherub, which was funny cause he was a pretty big dude. He always held my hand when we drove, and he called me "baby" and I actually let him. I loved him a lot.
And then I went through his phone, and found out the real tea. And then things kind of just sucked from there.
It sucked the most when we finally broke up because I thought that I had finally found what I wanted. That companion to tell everything to, that real life partner in everything. But, in retrospect, that was unhealthy and we weren't even suitable partners. Just young and sad.
And then, for the second time I was forced to crawl back to solitude. This time, I didn't repress it, I embraced it. I happily and frequently celebrated being alone, and wanting absolutely nothing to do with anyone.
Which brings us to
A very very annoying thing happened when I became more self aware: That "I-hate-love-hoe-life-forever" bullshit, was just that. How embarrassing. Without my permission, I began to want to establish a genuine human connection. I now understood the difference between love and unhealthy attachment, and wanted to give it a go. And then wanting to give it "a go" turned into needing it so badly that I could fucking die. And then I'd meet someone! And oh my God they actually like me! And wow it's great... until it's not.
Ha ha, dumbo. You're "too much", remember! Did you forget?
This then results in a few types of people in my life:
- Finds my Instagram/Twitter and decided that they are "in love"
- They obviously aren't, and quickly realize that I'm just funny and a little hot
- They think they want me cause I'm different, but then they realize that they don't want different, and that different is different for a reason
- They go
- These are people that are fighting some shit in their life, and are on the prowl
- They can hold great conversations and are great listeners
-They immidiately respond to my charm, but know how to swing it back which is rare and I like that, and they know it
- They want something from me, and they don't even know what that something even is
- I have to tell them to leave because they make me feel weird, or I don't tell them and they eventually realize that there's no more of me left to eat
- They think they really love me, but they really just don't
- They go
- They are gorgeous and they know it, and they know that I know it, and oh man
- They pay me just enough attention for me to be crushed when I realize they never really paid me attention in the first place, and that I still desperately want it
- They usually appear to be just my type, but in actuality, they usually just have a focused goal that they can't allow to be distracted by things like relationships and that turns me the fuck on
- They ignore the shit out of me 95% of time
- They are either unavailable, or wish-wash
- The wish-wash ones can hit my line ANYTIME, anytime they feel like it, and they know it too
- They were never "there" to begin with, so I'm usually the one to "go" (which usually means letting go of the hope that they will text me back or make cute YouTube videos, or marry me or whatever)
After all of these L's I obviously had to make some changes. And then it happened. I fell for myself hard. And I mean physical, spiritual, mentally. I am attracted to the exterior body that I currently inhabit, and I also am proud of my growth and think I'm funny as shit. I love how kind and caring I am. I feel L O V E spelled out in the life energy in my heart and solar plexus. I am one of my favorite kinds of people. I wish I more than anything to find my equal, if only to prove that I can be more in love with someone more than myself.
I am my protector and my biggest fan. And sometimes people trick me into thinking that they can love me for who I really am, and it just never happens. They either love me for what they want or think they want from me, or they love me because they just want to be loved themselves.
This makes me sad, because sometimes I think that I'm too scared for "love" now, anyway.
Bottom line in all of these scenarios, is that people either love me too much, not properly, or not at all.
Which means that it's loneliness I return to every Thursday. I fall asleep with a cramped hand down my pants, and when I meditate, I try not to ask my ancestors when they'll send me a soulmate.
Cause after all of this, I think I'm kind of traumatized. So maybe I'll only just have best friends from now on, and when everyone else can get their fucking shit together, then I'll pick one or three to marry.
I haven't decided yet.