I can argue it both ways.. I probably have. Well, right now I’m inclined to accept that I just really have never really been alone. Not for very long.
I don’t mean being left alone in my house for a few weeks, or travelling and living alone somewhere for several months.. I mean..there’s always been someone else in my life.. someone particular and constant to turn to, to be relied upon by, to compromise for, to depend on, to drain and be drained by, to trust, to love, to be loved by.
I’ve also mostly never been in a ‘real’ / ‘official’ / ‘committed’ relationship.. but that becomes more and more technical and argumentative as time passes, and it’s cleanly not true anymore and….
It’s not been the same person for all my years, either.. And many were brief. ..but I’ve never..
this is all coming out very choppy… that’s partially because I haven’t thought through any of this yet, and mostly because I’ve tired myself out from trying to fix the CSS on this site towards a rework of the current design. It’s late. I forgot to eat dinner. I’m not sure what I started to write here.. I know that it’s not really new thoughts for me.. I also know that it’s not coherent to me right now… I think my general point was/is that, for better or for worse, simply, I have never really really been alone for very long. That’s arguably partly my fault, and arguably unavoidable as a consequence of myself. I doubt anyone would accuse me of being a clingy person; I’m not going to assert that I am not insecure; I am certain that much of my comfort and self-assurance has been drawn from those particular people who landmarked my life.. All of this
irregardless (EDIT: ‘ir-’ specifically fit my mood at the time of writing. but i concede this time. notice appreciated.) regardless of what impact I must have had on them. That whole ‘space’ thing was never popular with anyone I knew.. though it has come to pass that individuals have become very very sore with me and leave me be for a while.. that’s scarcer than the toes of most birds, and usually doesn’t last unbearably long.. usually.
But I have felt alone.
I cope. It’s kinda pretty much what I do.
‘Wonder who this writing is for. It’s not written descriptively enough to be particularly informative. It’s not speaking to any one of few people who could possibly have any inkling as to what I am talking about. And it’s .. well, it actually is rather written in my general journal style, I suppose..what with the context being clear only to me and the nuances of mention specific to my understanding and future memory..—just that rather than written in notebook, in English or personal language, or typed in passworded hundred-page document (which I have not opened or appended in a year or more..how sad) it is posted online in a collective of my other rambles.. the other rambles, btw… all these entries, both on this Textpatterned site and the MovableTyped one back at rasasayang.net, are all what I would consider ‘pre-launch’.. in journal terms: they’re all scattered notes, written unfinishedly in sub-treasurable notebooks—waiting for the real journal with the real entries when I really write. But that’s not how it all works. Not one bit.
I used to read over my works consistently, when I was younger. In the past several years, not so much. I write it, I hand it in to the teacher, or close the book and read it next year. So if any of this could have been made more sensical or proper or thorough or discrete or whatever else I might have liked it to be, then.. it simply will be as it has been written and I’ll give it a read tomorrow and say, “uhhuhm” to myself, and that will be that.
I’m hungry. And rambling. And goodness knows what my point is right now, let alone what I could possibly have been writing about for the past 20 minutes.
My mouse has been dropped (falls off of the desk/the side of the seat of my chair/my thigh) so many times, I think it’s finally breaking. *shrug*