I am just a very strange, strange person. An anomaly if you will. I sometimes sit in the comfortable loneliness of my home, which I created deliberately partly out of being an introvert and partly because I think I hate people ( well, not all but some kinds more than others), and ache for some companionship. I never receive just cause phone calls. I have never. May be when I was a young girl in school. I used to have a few such friends. But even now I can see patterns of the true adult that was hidden in me. I have a few people I like but I like them to be still outside my very small and guarded boundary. I have wanted a few to come in but I have felt scorned or scared or both and then not wanted too much closeness.
I love the quietness and solitude of my own company and that of my husband. Don’t get me wrong. I also like to be around people but if I had to choose, hell, I would choose the former any day. But then some days, the loneliness and silence are soul-piercing and very tangible. I am aware I have no one. Yes, I went out and hung out with 3 of my friends yesterday and had an AWESOME time but I still feel deep down I am a loner.
I am trying very hard to stop feeling pressurized by past patterns and friendships. But I am a strange, strange girl, that’s all I can say really.
And also, what is it with me and dropping things. Ugh! I want to put my fist through the wall every time I drop something. I feel like a clutz.
I have made myself some tea. I am not looking forward to the 12 hr grueling nurse aide shift tomorrow but in all fairness I have not worked in a while, so there is no excuse for me.
I am also going to go ahead and make some aloo (potato) sandwiches for me for my lunch tomorrow. I hope they turn out like what I have in mind- from the streets of India.
Sometimes, the word ‘India’ also sounds strange to me. Surreal. I do not know at times what to make of it.