April 30. The second Saturday in a row in which I have stayed in bed for the entirety of the day.
Or maybe it is a result of exhaustion, depression, boredom, loneliness, shitty weather, etc. I am trying not to analyze my sense of “do nothing-ness.”
I had no plans last night. No plans for today. Being 23 and in a city like Chicago, this hermit-like itinerary definitely goes against the grain. I probably should be going out and dancing and living my life. But the life I like to live involves me being in pajamas at 2:27 PM on a weekend, with no true obligations on the horizon.
Yesterday, I compared myself to a turtle with only room for me in my shell. A co-worker then said, “well, you could always get a bigger shell.” But I don’t want to. I have gone out. I have tried Tinder, Bumble, being set up by friends. No one has knocked my socks off, and I apparently haven’t been the bee’s knees either. Hence the reason why I sit here, alone. And the longer that I sit here alone, the more comfortable I become being a party of one. And the more comfortable I become as a party of one, the harder it becomes for me to see my life filled with love and a family. Sad? Maybe. Truthful? Absolutely. I have always envied couples who have been married for 50+ years, lamenting over the idea of high school sweethearts turned to life partners and how I will never have that. But as I get older, and as I have seen the man I called “Papa” claim to be heartbroken over the death of his wife of 50 years, ex-communicate himself from our family, and marry a woman 2 months after my Granny died of cancer, I am realizing maybe these people weren’t ever in love. Maybe they married out of necessity. Maybe they married because it was convenient.
I am sure true love exists for some, but those people are far and few in between. As for the rest, I truly believe that they partner up because it is hard to be alone. It is jarring and cold and vacant. I get why people would want to latch on to someone else. But as I sit here, by myself, I realize that I would rather it be this way than have someone in bed next to me whom my gut warns against.
So I will live my life as just one. And maybe, just maybe I’ll eventually get my socks knocked off, but believe me when I say I’ll never force it. My turtle shell for one is far too cozy.