Lost People Get Lost in Things
Lost people get lost in things. I don't know why it took me so long to make the connection.
Or maybe I did and I just ignored it...which, considering the last couple of years? Almost certainly the case. I've been simultaneously aloof and so fucking aware that the two have become hard to separate. Some real left brain / right brain shit. Two sides, same coin, yada yada.
It explains a lot though, this physics of the self. If I find myself deficient in something in my life, I fill that void with something tangible and excessive. Lose a lover in your 20s and maybe you end up shoving your nose in some books for another 7 years. Get jumped by a homeless person twice your size and maybe you end up leaving a city for a completely different one...but you carry that traumatic moment with you for a good long while. A lost person gets lost in the process of losing themselves in order to move on.
It's me. I'm lost people. And I'm the one getting lost in things. I'm the one out here trying to fill the deficiencies in my life and I am one hundred fucking percent out here overcompensating with unnecessary solutions to irrational problems.
I am currently experiencing an undeniably profound sense of deep and unshakeable loneliness, and I don't think the loss of my parents has helped that.
To be clear, this isn't the type of loneliness that occurs with solitude or the complete absence of friends, coworkers, or people in general altogether; this stems from a lack of legitimate companionship, from having each iteration of a romantic relationship end in confusing ways (if they ever start at all).
I have done all manner of things to rectify this and, at each turn it seems the universe steps in and says "No, you don't get to have this. It's not for you. Your place is next to no one." That the universe is somehow stepping in and cock-blocking me is pure nonsense, and my rational brain recognizes that. But it's hard not to see this pattern emerge in the way things have dissolved right before my eyes and in ways I have absolutely zero control over. The last several women I've tried to create something tangible with have either had horrible life shit end things between us or they just straight up disappeared without so much as a word of explanation to me. And it's ALWAYS right when things seem to be going well, like the trajectory is right on course.
And so, my lost ass does what it always does and gets lost in some new thing or process that soaks up the time left dormant and unshared by someone else.
I'm tired of being lost and I'm tired of falling into my old patterns and I'm tired of the universe seemingly keeping good things just out of my reach and I'm tired of not getting to share all this time with someone worthy of my attention.
I can only affect so much change on my own, and I'm actively doing so now. I guess I'm just at the point where I don't expect it to make much of a difference. This is me just sending my frustrations out into the digital ether in the hopes of affecting whatever keeps this one, singular aspect of life out my reach.
Literally and figuratively, I'm honestly at a loss on this one.
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My third book, "Under a Black Rainbow," remains in the hands of a small indie press. They've been sitting on it for just under a year, and I have no idea how many submissions they recieved, but I'm hoping I hear something one way or another soon. A little validation from a publisher on the writing front would make a huge difference in my current mood.
I've no idea when I'll start doing serious writing again. I had an appointment with my tattoo artist last weekend and we were talking about the nature of the creative mind and how it always has a need to create output, no matter the medium. He thought it might be a good idea for me to write a book about my process with grief and all I've experienced with it. Can't say it's a bad idea, so I may ruminate on that a bit. That's a serious minefield to navigate, but I also know how helpful it might be for some.
Until the next time I find myself with something to say...
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I would listen to the tattoo artist, he has a point. I think you would have a great deal to say. In the process of organizing your thoughts it may give your more insight from an editorial perspective rather than someone living through it. As for the companionship aspect, I am the wrong person to ask. I was serial relationship guy for years... well decades. We are creatures of habits and patterns, sprinkling enough adventure to keep life from becoming mundane and filled with complacency. Sounds, like your priorities have shifted and that may be all you need to start a new path.
ReplyDeleteThat weird unexplained loneliness, I blame on our current societal structure. For thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of years, we never ever before lived as we have in the last century. It is creating a level illness in all of us. And then ... I dismiss that thought, look at the clock and say to myself, "Yep, it has been about 5 years. Time to re-invent!" Call up that publisher and badger them. A year is too long!
ReplyDeleteBelieve it or not, it's pretty standard, especially for a full-length manuscript, but ESPECIALLY for a full-length manuscript that arrived alongside probably hundreds of other full-length manuscripts. It'll be fine, but it's annoying.
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