Forced into introversion, I spent most of my time alone. I hated every second of it, yearning for a brother. After that dream was shattered by a miscarriage, I longed for someone to fill that role. Since I was not close to my siblings, I forged bonds with people I considered closer to me than my own blood. I read about Hephaestion, about how people in antiquity always had others who were fiercely loyal to them. I sought that same loyalty with all my will, forming friendships that ultimately crumbled—either I drifted away, or they did. My expectations, my relentless imposition of ideals, ruined the very bonds I so desperately sought.
At some point, I resigned myself to the idea that it would never happen. Then I fell in love. But the timing was cruel, and my depression only made it worse. In my despair, I clung to them, desperate to spend every minute together. Blinded by love, I abandoned my ambitions, chasing a hedonistic illusion. Yet, as the spark faded, so did we. I failed to see how my melancholy was pushing them away. Instead, I felt unloved, and because of our inability to communicate, I continued to hurt both myself and them, slowly tearing apart the foundation we had built. My obsession with the future robbed me of the present, and my attempts to control it only drove me further into the abyss. Unwilling to leave, it continued eating my health away, almost suffering from a heart attack couple months back.
Now, I sit here, severing ties with those unwilling to match my loyalty, blind to the love I still receive because I compare it to what once was. The sad truth is that every person who was once closest to me is now a distant stranger.
What a life. I feel happier now, yet sometimes, I wish I could go back—back to stop myself from crying in the bathtub, back to stop myself from tethering my soul to the ambitious men of the past.
Samnehs Blogs 