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Hope is a frail thing, but loneliness is forever
7 years ago
I feel more and more alone. The more I try to be a part of things, the less a part I feel. The less I seem to belong. The little hope I spark into life is extinguished before it can light even the tiniest fire. Hope alive and dashed in a moment's breadth. I stretch myself far too thin trying to keep up, here and other places. Social media. I compartmentalize life. It's difficult. I'm currently bridging my personal, private self across the furry and Therian fandoms. It's different. I haven't been a part of the Therian community in at least a decade. I didn't really think there was one anymore.
But I've already been put through the paces, told what I think and feel is wrong. Corrected. It's a strange thing in a realm that's supposed to be inclusive, welcoming, supportive, and all that - things that probably never really happen anyplace in spite of how we might wish to perceive them.
Meanwhile, with FB as a not-so-private realm, I limit myself. I keep up with notifications, various groups I follow might lead to a way out of here. Away from the prairie and back to the mountains. But this stokes my OCD, so I can't do much but keep up. Then people message me there. They message me here. They message me on Therian places. They message me on Twitter. It's fine, various levels of acquaintances, friendships trying to form. Ebb and flow, some never come into fruition. Fading. Yet I put everything into each and every one. I exhaust myself. Even LJ. I'm still on there. I can't believe how many places I try to keep up with, to maintain connections of years, new ones, even with people I feel little in common with. I feel a sense of needing to be kind and always show consideration, to each soul. But it's going to be my undoing. No one can work like this, stress like this, and keep up with all.
I have no "free" time anymore. I barely get any sleep. It's certainly not enough. I can feel it impacting me. My physical health has deteriorated.
And in ultimate irony, I feel alone. Oh, those moments of hope come along, but they're hard to hold onto. Besides making a better life. The essence of life is missing. The purpose. Not just a job or vocation. Finding joy in work. Living each day without being miserable. The essence of what makes life worth living. At least for me. Perhaps from past journal posts whomsoever might read this will understand.
Perhaps not. Oh but why must it be so impossible? I begin to believe I'm without hope or unable to feel it anymore. Then something comes along, but it's dashed as I said before. A spark in the night, and gone. Kindred spirits are rare. The times I feel that instant comfort with another. Those are ... never. I'm not friendly as a cat. Not in the way furs are in general. I don't show affection toward many people. I feel uneasy, uncomfortable. It takes a lot.
Sparks. Sparks of light. Not stars. But sparks in the night. A moment. They glow. A moment. I know. Then gone. Sparks cool. Fade from sight. Goodbye. My sparks in the night.
I still hold on, what glimmers remain must be grasped. Though time is not on my side. The longshot is so far off. I may age and die before anything truly happens. Meanwhile, complacency not of my doing will destroy me in the waiting. I cannot force progress. Not even my own. Let alone. (I speak in riddles, eh?) Good gravy. I'm probably only going to make sense to myself. If that statement even makes sense. ... o.o;
But I've already been put through the paces, told what I think and feel is wrong. Corrected. It's a strange thing in a realm that's supposed to be inclusive, welcoming, supportive, and all that - things that probably never really happen anyplace in spite of how we might wish to perceive them.
Meanwhile, with FB as a not-so-private realm, I limit myself. I keep up with notifications, various groups I follow might lead to a way out of here. Away from the prairie and back to the mountains. But this stokes my OCD, so I can't do much but keep up. Then people message me there. They message me here. They message me on Therian places. They message me on Twitter. It's fine, various levels of acquaintances, friendships trying to form. Ebb and flow, some never come into fruition. Fading. Yet I put everything into each and every one. I exhaust myself. Even LJ. I'm still on there. I can't believe how many places I try to keep up with, to maintain connections of years, new ones, even with people I feel little in common with. I feel a sense of needing to be kind and always show consideration, to each soul. But it's going to be my undoing. No one can work like this, stress like this, and keep up with all.
I have no "free" time anymore. I barely get any sleep. It's certainly not enough. I can feel it impacting me. My physical health has deteriorated.
And in ultimate irony, I feel alone. Oh, those moments of hope come along, but they're hard to hold onto. Besides making a better life. The essence of life is missing. The purpose. Not just a job or vocation. Finding joy in work. Living each day without being miserable. The essence of what makes life worth living. At least for me. Perhaps from past journal posts whomsoever might read this will understand.
Perhaps not. Oh but why must it be so impossible? I begin to believe I'm without hope or unable to feel it anymore. Then something comes along, but it's dashed as I said before. A spark in the night, and gone. Kindred spirits are rare. The times I feel that instant comfort with another. Those are ... never. I'm not friendly as a cat. Not in the way furs are in general. I don't show affection toward many people. I feel uneasy, uncomfortable. It takes a lot.
Sparks. Sparks of light. Not stars. But sparks in the night. A moment. They glow. A moment. I know. Then gone. Sparks cool. Fade from sight. Goodbye. My sparks in the night.
I still hold on, what glimmers remain must be grasped. Though time is not on my side. The longshot is so far off. I may age and die before anything truly happens. Meanwhile, complacency not of my doing will destroy me in the waiting. I cannot force progress. Not even my own. Let alone. (I speak in riddles, eh?) Good gravy. I'm probably only going to make sense to myself. If that statement even makes sense. ... o.o;
I too suffer from a lack of time but you just have to keep moving forward...
V.
Remember who your true friends are, Sneppy. Those are the ones who always come back to you, no matter what.
There are some people I regret losing contact with, but as I have regained contact with they have changed so much it would just be awkward to get together with them again. Others, I will never know, because they just disappeared. Some by their own volition.
Ultimately, you have only one life, so don't waste it. I would advise you to possibly limit your social media interaction to those who can truly be supportive (I hope I am being supportive, I am trying my best). You can always tell the people on the other social media sites you are taking a short sabbath, hiatus, or whatever you wish to refer to it as if you are afraid they may get angry at you for not replying.
The sad thing for me is I can probably count on one paw the number of people who would even say anything if I just disappeared for several months. There is always that fear, the fear of being forgotten. Conversely, with energy and time at a scarcity, I prefer to spend what time I have with people who truly care for me. I think my days of "hanging out" probably are done. At this point I am beginning to wonder if inconsequential free time like "hanging out" is truly a figment of teenage yesteryears and fictional media, or if adults really do partake in this seemingly bygone pastime. I fail to see how living alone in a dwelling abode you must maintain and working greater than 40 hours affords someone time to "goof around" without ramifications. I suppose if one could truly find an effective substitute for sleep then lack of free time may become a relic of the past. Military, students, common Joes have been using stimulants since the 1930s and caffeine has been in use since ancient times, but all these forms of stimulants boil over until they crescendo into the point of diminishing returns, dependency, and ultimately spiral down into withdrawal. Then again, suppose a proper surrogate to sleep was discovered and could be fabricated in such a way as to be affordable to the common citizen, would the common work week not expand to consume this newly created void? And given a massive increase in productivity, coupled with the oft-abused salaried employee, surely businesses would be chomping at the bit to find this alternate form of anabolic regeneration. Anyways, I digress, as I have descendant into a thought experiment that far exceeds the original scope of this reply.
I am probably a poor teacher in the field of time management, but I will try to help where I can. I want to help; help me help you. Please remember that. *husky hug*