I’m standing. It is still in one piece, my life. But why do I even write about it? Does anyone, other than my mother, even read about it? If you do; raise your hands. I need to be acknowledged in some way. I need to not be ignored anymore. You may say that I’m not, but I feel like I am. When I think plans were made between me and a person, my excitement builds up as that day approaches. I repeatedly glance at my phone, expecting a reminder or a mention of what we had spoken of a few weeks prior to this date. Then, when that day arrives, and I awaken out of bed with a big smile on my face, excitement building up inside me, my phone remains empty, my messages are ignored. My emotions of loneliness and aggravation begin to rise inside of me. My poor stuffed zebra, Zack, begins to endure the pain of me squeezing out all of these irritations onto him. Poor guy.
I will in the middle of a conversation when, suddenly, another person feels that what they have to say cannot wait a single second longer, so they must explode into the middle of my discussion, drawing all attention away from me. I am not able to talk my way back in. When I try to, word over word take over; nothing. I can’t even try to begin a new conversation when there is a few seconds of silence. I begin to speak, yet another speaks and BAM! All attention is on them. So, I just slink back into my dark hole.
From my dark hole, I saw you that guys were having some fun this weekend. From all of those pictures you felt you should share with the world, it looked like you and a bunch of other people were just having a spur of the moment gathering. One question, though: was your phone broken? Mine wasn’t. I do understand if this was a family celebration, but when I see that it’s being held at our home or perhaps you all gathered at a small bar, I can almost feel my dark-hole calling to me again. Especially when I know I had called you that night, the rings continued until the only voice I heard was that of your mail.
My dark hole needs a light switch.