Losing Yourself

Losing myself seems to be a talent of mine. I wish I could consider myself a gifted individual because of this talent but sadly, the ability to lose oneself so easily isn’t really an admirable trait.

I wish there was something that set me apart. Something that made me unique. Something I could cling to, when I started to lose myself again. Sadly, the truth is, I’m excruciatingly average. Mediocre, at best. Anything I could possibly do, somebody else could do better. I don’t have any real dreams or ambitions, and I lack the motivation to actually become good at something.

I know it’s not something I should linger on, but I can’t help it. The pressure to perform keeps haunting me. Whether that pressure comes from society, my family, friends or even from myself, I don’t know. Ironically enough, the pressure makes me shut down. As soon as I get a chance to prove myself, I shut down and avoid the challenge. It’s really painful to be your own worst enemy like that. I really feel powerless coming face to face with myself.

Sometimes, I feel such a strong urge to make my life worthwhile again. With a burning passion, really. However, in the blink of an eye that passion sizzles and burns out. And then, I lose myself again. In a book, in a game or in music. Perhaps even in a long walk, while listening to podcasts about the things I could be doing with my life if I would actually put in the damn effort for once. 

I’d like to find myself, I really would, but sometimes it’s just easier to stay lost.

A Transatlantic Non-Love Story

When I decided to try to get back in touch with an old friend of mine (let’s call him John, for the purpose of the story) the other day, something regrettable happened to me. You see, John and I, we’re separated by this little thing called the Atlantic Ocean. Unfortunately, that means I don’t see him very often. In fact, that’s an understatement; I’ve never met him in real life.

A little backstory about me and John: we met online, a couple of years ago. We were both in the same group chat in a video game I used to play at the time. I don’t even remember why, but for some reason, we started talking in private chat. Soon afterward, we exchanged Kik usernames and started talking outside of the game. A lot of time has passed since then, and we’re no longer the little kids we were back then.

Over the years, we’ve had countless conversations. We could literally talk about anything and everything. Whether the topic would be the meaning of life or the meaning of the new popsicle emoji didn’t even matter, it would always be a pleasure.

The thing is, I started to care about him. Perhaps I started to care about him more than I would care to admit. I don’t know what it is, but he just had that special something. He thought and spoke with a certain sense of urgency. It made him very captivating and somehow equally as charming. After all, I’ve always had a weak spot for level-headed, earnest people, like him. I felt pathetic for feeling this way about somebody I’d never met, but sometimes you just can’t help it.

Either way, let’s get back on track to the actual story. At this point, I’m sure you’ve already figured out that I had some unspecified feelings for John. Those feelings are what led me to send him a message the other day, after a couple of months of not speaking. It was just one of those simple, run-of-the-mill greeting texts, and because of the six-hour time difference, it took him a while to respond. When he finally did, though, I was in for a surprise:

“I’m sorry, but who are you and why are you texting John?”

I didn’t know what to say. Part of me was worried something had happened to him, so I explained to this mysterious person who I was, and why I texted him. Next thing I know, his profile picture grayed out and I couldn’t send anything anymore. I was blocked. This mystery guest, whom I didn’t know anything about, decided that blocking me was the best course of action. All I could think was: this did not just happen to me.

I went to John’s Facebook page to try to figure out what was going on. My suspicions turned out to be true: he was in a relationship. Frankly, I wasn’t surprised at all. I knew he had a knack for getting into problematic and unhealthy relationships because he has been in many of those before. This was the first time he moved in with his date, though. I still can’t wrap my head around why you would date somebody who feels the need to check your messages.

The lack of trust in his relationship is infuriating to me. I thought he would have learned his lesson when he made his way out of his previous relationship, but apparently, he hasn’t. I don’t know whether to be mad at him or feel sorry for him, but I know one thing for sure: I’m really disappointed in him. I don’t feel the same way about him anymore, and I feel like I’ve lost a good friend because of it.

The worst part about this is that I feel like I shouldn’t even care. I feel like I need to let it go because I’m probably just jealous and intrusive. I guess I’m just writing this all down to make up my mind and put my feelings into words. For the first time, I’m glad there’s an ocean between us, so it’s time to close this chapter.