The Politics of Lonely

This morning I called my friend Brian in New York (whom I love franticly) and when he asked me how I was doing I found myself breaking down and saying that I was so lonesome that I could die. And in the moment that I was saying it, it didn't feel like an exaggeration.

I would like to be able to handle major transitions with a sort of grace that I have not yet been capable of. In fact, I would like to handle any situation with even a modicum of grace. Lately it seems like every attempt I make at handling anything at all ends in an almost comic state of disaster. In my efforts to be natural and spontaneous I end up drinking too much and then saying WAY too much and then feeling like a total ass the next day. It's like I am struggling to be myself, but what comes out is this side of me that is so needy and bothered and scared. It's obnoxious.

Trying to make new friends sucks. Having the people that you love the most spread out across the country sucks. I realize right now how spoiled I was in the place I lived before I moved to Austin. The community of people that I enjoyed there seemed to have come together so effortlessly, it was so easy to be a part of. And people knew me, they understood when to take me seriously and when to tell me to fuck off. So few explanations were needed.

That's what I miss the most right now. Just being able to say whatever I need to say to someone and not worry about coming across like a lunatic. Actually, I miss a lot more than that right now. I miss being able to walk out of my front door and stroll down the street knowing that somewhere in the next few blocks I'll run into someone I know. I miss a Tuesday night organically turning into a non-stop laugh riot because of a random assortment of accessible people. I miss being the first person that someone would call to come over if he or she needed some company for any fucking reason at all. DAMN IT. I am fucking lonely.

I'm struggling with the idea that in order to progress academically or professionally or howeverly you have to leave behind what may be the most comfortable to you. I consciously and willingly left that cozy little town because I felt like it was time. I felt like my life had to change so that I could make an effort to get to wherever it is that I think I need to get to. So now, here I am, taking these steps because something is compelling me to believe that it's what I have to do and all I can think about sometimes is what I would give for a few buddies to show up at my door with a case and nothing to do for the next few hours.

And sure, I know. These things take time. And fucking more time. Just give it time. I am over that shit. I'm impatient and impulsive. I'm not stoic or, I don't know,... calm. I need people. Comrades. Company. Laughter. I'm sick of small talk. In fact, I hate small talk. I need people to dive into shit with, fucking wade around and see what we can come up with. I need people who I can lock arms with as we set out to just be fucking ludicrous. I'm no good at being casual. Or lonely.

At least I know they're there though. My tribe. Thank fucking god. They may be spread out across this big, dumb ass country, but I can usually get one of them on the horn when I am in desperate need of reassurance. Which is all the fucking time, these days. I called Brian this morning in tears and by the time I got off the phone with him my stomach hurt from laughing so hard. I'm so grateful to that. It helps me to know that the reason it's hard to find genuine friends in a new place is because the standards I have for friendship are set by fantastic, beautiful people who may not be able to combust out of thin air onto the barstool next to me, even though I may want them to. Holy shit I miss my friends.

I know there are cool people here. I've met some of them. Most of them think I'm a fucking nut job, though. Whatever. I guess I'll just give it some time. Some wonderful fucking time. I hate when cliches become relevant to your life, it feels so pathetic. I need a fucking hug.