Alone

It is a very disheartening thing to stumble upon a moment when you could really use a friend and realize that you have none. You start backtracking in your mind, comparing the number of friends on your Facebook and the number of contacts in your cell phone to the number of people you can count on, and are shocked at how very small that final number is. You wonder where they all have gone, and then if you are better off alone. You start to wonder 'how did I get here?' and then reality begins to rush in, capturing you and your happiness in its violent undertow and slowly pulling you down below its dark, painful depths.

There was the friend whose calls you stopped returning because you were simply too busy. Not a big deal. You can call them back with a half-hearted apology and they will gladly forgive you. And what about the friend whom you canceled on a few weeks ago, the one who said that they had something they needed to discuss with you? You can try to call, but don't expect them to answer. They were going to tell you that they caught their significant other cheating and they really just needed someone to talk to. You're good at listening. Or at least, you used to be. What about the casual acquaintance that you simply stopped talking to for some superficial reason? Now that you think about it, that has happened quite a few times. You sigh. What is so wrong with you that you can't manage to hold on to anybody in your life?

Slowly, you realize that you've been shutting people out. You've been isolating yourself for reasons unknown to you and you have succeeded - you are alone. You have no one. And you hate it.

So what's next? You go out into the world and try to reinvent yourself. You hit a few bars and host a few parties, but you know all the while that you aren't fooling anyone. You are still alone, you are simply alone with people drinking your liquor and having one night stands in your bedroom while you stand helplessly by, pretending to be the always gracious and always happy host. Everyone can see that you're miserable inside.

When reinvention fails to fill the emptiness caused by your lack of a social life, you try therapy. You stare at the ceiling as a balding, sweating man in a suit asks you about your childhood. He concludes that you weren't hugged enough as a child and you are isolating yourself from the world as a defense mechanism. You have a need to prove to the world that you don't need its love or acceptance. You say he makes a good point. And then you break down sobbing. He gives you a tissue and a prescription for antidepressants. He says to work on letting people into your life.

You take the pills. You like the pills. You greatly enjoy the feeling of numbness they give you, the false sense of security. You take two more because you can, then another two because your cat died when you were in sixth grade. You take a break and then your mother calls. You take three more. You become painfully aware of your heart beating in your chest, louder and harder than normal. You long for the numb feeling that the drugs originally gave you. You swallow the rest with a swig of rum. And then everything goes black.

You wake up in the hospital. Someone heard you fall and phoned the police. You are very lucky, they say. You could have died. and how very sad that would have been.

You go back to therapy. The sweaty man tells you that everything will be okay. He tells you that it is critical to have a support system of friends in this difficult time.

You scoff. Doesn't he remember how you all got there?