A Self Indulgent Entry in Book Six: Trying to Hold On 2019

Sometimes, I come here and think

I should stop writing in here. It provides the illusion of friendship and social interaction; but that is all it is. An illusion. Ultimately, all this is, this Prosebox space, is a place to throw your words up… and some people may have words about it… or not. And you may read other peoples’ words and you may throw words at those words. But in the true heart of it all… Social Media and Prosebox and all those places like it… it doesn’t count. It isn’t a person you can call up and spend time with. It isn’t someone with whom you could grab a coffee and commiserate. You can’t go shoot a round of pool or have a friend act as backup at a club. You can’t get a hug when you’re grieving. The digital space is a palliative; a hollow panacea that tricks us into thinking that our social circles are larger than they really are.

Imagine it, for real. Lets say that in trying to fix my buggy internet, the internet company shreds the connections. I’m without internet connection for 2 weeks. Yeah, I could argue the flaw in this. When I lived in Tiny Town I lived in a house without internet for months and simply used the net at work. But lets try to imagine a two week span with ZERO internet connectivity.
My entire circle would be:
- Bro/Sis: 1 hour away
- Parents: 2 hours away
- Jane and DM Friends: 2 hours away
- MBFITWW: 90 minutes away
- Local? Martha, Victoria, and Remus. That’s about it. My entire social circle within a 50 mile radius is three people; one of whom I am filing for separation from, one of whom I’ve met twice, and one of whom has intimated that she wants a Non-Emotion, No Strings sexual encounter. That’s my social circle.

Clearly… I’m worried about feeling lonely. About being lonely. It’s the season for it after all, even if I wasn’t going through a separation. People stay indoors. They huddle themselves against the cold. Businesses close earlier. The world from 4 p.m. to 8 a.m. is shifted to be as silent and dark as possible.

I’ll admit. It is enough to make me question my resolve on this separation. Not enough to doubt the separation but enough to question my resolve on it. Because really- that’s the joy of being me, really. I appreciate and embrace this separation. It needs to happen and I need to learn (1) how to be okay with it; (2) who I am during/after it; (3) how to progress in my life without dedicating myself to someone else’s happiness and needs with no mutuality. I accept and support that. But I see tough days ahead. And those worry me.