When you reach a certain age – a certain point in your life – you start to shed certain hopes from your life. You start to slowly lose expectations and certain dreams, what you wish for becomes an impossibility.
Human connection in a romantic aspect. It’s starting to become an impossibility in my life. Given my advanced age, I feel as though I’m not meant to be in a relationship. I’m not meant to have romantic love. A reciprocated one, at the very least. Not that it makes any difference now.
Never really had much in terms of relationships. I’ve only been in three relationships. Each of those I screwed up royally. Just didn’t work, or I had tons of issues that I needed to work on first.
Now, I don’t know. I’m thirty two and still resolving my issues. And there are so much of them. Too much. I don’t know when I’ll cross the finish line in my recovery from depression. Or if I ever will. It’s possible that it’s a recovery that’s meant to last til I’m gone. If that is the case, then I consider it a tragedy – a man who was on the road to getting better, but never actually got better.
Going back to love and all that…
Yeah. Feels like I am going to be alone in the end, after all. That’s always been one of my greatest fears in life. Even before recovery, even when I was a teenager. Didn’t want to end up alone, didn’t want to be that broken man smoking a cigarette leaning on a lamppost at night, watching everything and nothing pass him by.
But the more I think about it, the more days pass by, the more it seems predestined. Like I will become that man.
What a lonely life I lead. I’m the one taking care of people best I could. Looking out for them. But there’s no one taking care of me. Can barely take care of myself, honestly speaking.
And Logically speaking, I shouldn’t complain. That’s my role – my purpose – not theirs. But emotionally speaking, fucking hell what a fucking life this is. What a fucking lonely life this is.
I’ve never felt this cold and alone before.