Reticent Panic

I’m Sorry

I probably should have listened to you.

As a general rule of thumb, it’s a good idea to trust your closest friends when they say “Don’t hang out with ____________, they’re kind of a bad person and they obviously make you miserable.” 

After a few months and a lot of issues, I’m coming to realize that my friends were right. However, I ended up losing most of them in the process of learning this.

I guess that’s how life works, hm?

Suffocating.

It happens randomly and without any warning; one moment you’re fine and the next you’re reeling from anxiety and a collection of depressive thoughts. It happens randomly, but there’s always a trigger.

“What are you doing?” You may ask one day, trying to bridge a gap of silence between yourself and a friend who has grown increasingly disinterested in the past few hours.

After nearly an hour you’ll finally receive a reply.

“Oh, just talking to John.”

They don’t mean anything by it and they don’t think you’ll read so far into it, but you do. You’ll wonder who John is and why he’s important enough to take your friend away from you - what makes him better and more deserving than you? Did you not do enough? Were you not available enough?

A swell of panic will replace the feeling of comfortability; silences that were once welcome and relieving will suddenly be overbearing and riddled with unspoken questions. Above all else, though, you’ll be hurt. You’ll be hurt because you are no longer needed - someone has replaced you and you’re doomed to be forgotten.

You’ll confront your friend and cry to them, revealing that you’re terrified of losing them to another person - you want to be their priority, dammit, not just another option. They’ll respond by kindly reminding you that you’re special and irreplaceable and, for a while, everything will be fine.

Things will be normal for days, maybe weeks, and for a little while you’ll wonder why you even worried. It’s silly, you’ll think, that someone as unimportant as John could take your dear friend from you. After all, you’re the more important one aren’t you? You’re the one they spend the most time with… how could he even compare? 

But then doubt will creep into your mental palace. Everything you told yourself - every lie and untruth - will creep up on you in the middle of the night, shattering your reality and reducing you to nothing more than a sniveling lump of flesh and bone.

Luckily, most of this can be avoided by telling yourself that most of the problem is in your head. Your social ineptness and general anxiety are what’s creating such an issue - it’s nothing that can’t be drown out with enough Prozac or Xanax, you’ll tell yourself half-heartedly with the hopes of curing yourself of such irrational worry.

Keep reminding yourself that this person still loves you, they just love other people as well… It’ll take a while, but you’ll adjust. You’ll get through this, I know you will, because there will always be someone else to fill their place.

Reprogramming

I realized last night that I’ve lost myself and who I am. In the past I’ve donned so many facades and taken on so many roles that I was lost in the shuffle.

During the next few weeks, I think I’m going to try to find myself again. I don’t like who I am right now, due to my massive lack of redeeming qualities and positive attributes, and I rally miss who I was.

I just want things to go back to the way they should be.

I feel as if I have made a grave mistake.

I’ve never been comfortable sharing my thoughts and feelings with other people simply because it never leads to good things. If I’m caught in the right mood, I’ll jabber on and on about the silliest of things and - more often than not - that jabbering is what turns people away from me.

My skull is bursting with ideas about life and the universe along with stories that need to be told, but I can’t seem to voice those thoughts in a way that can make me seem like a normal person. As soon as I open up to someone and really start to reach out for them, I feel exposed and … terrified. 

That’s where I’m at right now. I’m not zenned or euphoric, but I’m raw and scared; it’s not a great place to be.

Oh me.

I feel inspired today, but I’m not sure why - beyond that, I don’t know what I’m inspired to do or write.

There are times when I wish I could play an instrument (though I suppose one could count my brief stint with a trumpet as instrument playing), specifically I wish I could play the guitar. There’s something almost poetic about the thought of sitting in a room and picking on guitar strings for hours - or maybe that’s just me. Even playing the piano would be nice, if I had the space for it.

Whatever the case, I don’t know what to do or what to write… so it looks like I’ll be playing The Sims 3 instead. Why’s that? Because I’m trying to be less broody — keeping myself busy until a definitive wave of inspiration hits me is probably the best course of action.

Please, God, let this work.

Solitude

I don’t like venturing out of my house - I’ll make that clear right now. I spent twelve to fourteen hours a day writing on my book or other little collaborations that I’ve developed over the years. No, I don’t always stay inside my house - but, if given a choice, I would choose to remain indoors.

Sometimes I become filled with energy and the need to escape, to inhale the fresh air of the country side and exhale the stale air of the indoors for a moment, and when that need arises… I drive. Occasionally I walk, but mostly I drive. 

With the car windows down, creating a constant suction and circulation of air within the automobile, I can be buffeted by the sun and wind to my heart’s content - truly, it’s marvelous. While I drive, I usually listen to music (preferably CDs, lately my selections have ranged from Mumford and Sons to Nirvana) or I talk to myself, sorting out little details of the day (or week) that haven’t quiet gone according to plan. 

I also drive because I need the space - I genuinely need to be alone. Contrary to popular belief, being a recluse isn’t as bad as it seems. Sure, there are days when I wish I could talk to people and visit friends… but mostly, I want to be alone. When I do need a friend to talk to or someone to listen to me, there’s M, who is a phenomenal individual for putting up with my constant rain of emotional bull shit (pardon the french). Even when alone or needing space, I still love to keep contact with her. So maybe I’m not entirely alone, maybe I’m just selective.

I worry arms-length friends and family members with my habits, but explaining that I am most happy by myself seems only to lead to trouble. It’s a shame, too, as I’ve tried to tell them that large crowds have the opposite affect on me as it does them — sometimes I just want to keep the company of myself and my thoughts. 

I think Audrey Hepburn explained it best when she said this: “I have to be alone very often. I’d be quite happy if I spent from Saturday night until Monday morning alone in my apartment. That’s how I refuel.”

Sometimes it’s necessary to step back, disappear, and reemerge only when you’re ready — making people understand that is no easy feat.

I am Invisible

I am invisible.

Forgettable. 

Transparent.

To break a promise made with me is nothing - no guilt comes from the act and no nights will be spent sleepless with worry over any ill-will that I may convey. I am malleable and predictable, without feeling or disappointment.

I am the option - I am never the priority.