Bored as a 2015 fax machine sitting in biology class, I scribbled something in my notebook, to which I woke up the next morning when I sallied forth to conquer my homework. The scribble was this:
“Darling, if you spent even half as much time in productivity as you do in people-drama, you’d be halfway to the moon by now.”
That instantly depressed me. For obvious reasons. For one thing, why did I write that instead of the construction of a plasma membrane (which was probably what I should have been writing). But after that flash of frustration passed, I began to think about that statement a little more.
Now most of you don’t know me. I don’t post that much so how could you? You know I love to write. You know I love good books and exciting movies. You may even know my real name is not J.L. Cordova. But even still, I’ll add a little more to that stack of knowledge: I can’t be a people-person for a long amount of time.
Now I don’t mean friendly personality and energetic voice and expression. I’m a server at a restaurant. I’m a good people-person in that sense. I mean actually hanging out with people and being part of a group of friends–like in How I Met Your Mother, Friends, or heck even Big Bang Theory.
Why? I’m a strong introvert. Most people don’t believe me when I tell them that since I act the opposite when I’m out in public or at work. But honestly, whenever I become part of a group or find a group of friends…I can’t keep it for long. Either they silently push me away, I step out unnoticed, or maybe a little of both. Of all people, I think I need social interaction and the friend-feeling more than anyone. But I have found over the past couple of months that I cannot be “part of the group” for very long. Good friends? Haven’t had more than three or four in my whole life.
Why am I saying all of this? Its my blog I do what I want. But I’m also getting depressed again, as I feel this notion of isolation once again. Naming names and pointing fingers is pointless and unnecessary. I work at an environment where we are all family. Everyone knows everyone and there’s a group of friends here and a group of people that hang out all the time there…mingling here and there…a big party every once in a while where EVERYONE is together at one place and time. I loved this for awhile. I had a ton of fun. I was even friends with a couple people like me, who were quiet, country kids like me who doesn’t like socializing THAT much. Just enough to keep us human.
Oh how to explain this without sounding arrogant and stand-offish…
I’m best when I am alone.
I was an only child for 7 years. My parents were still in school for some of it. I lost my grandmother and great grandparents when I was too young to understand death. When I was 18 years old my brother died from a genetic disease. About a year later one of my close managers at work was shot in her apartment. I’ve lost a lot of friends during these times. Its pointless describing pain.
I just…I have a more serious personality than most of my peers. Maybe that’s why I can’t stay interested in people’s shallow mindsets. I wonder about how insignificant humans are compared to the vast space of the universe, while they worry about what bar they’re gonna go to Friday night. I work towards my life’s dream career in my free time–They play video games, smoke, sleep, go to work, repeat, repeat…repeat… I watch Netflix; they go to concerts. I’m waiting for a man to treat me right; they’ll sleep with anything that moves. I feel like there’s more to life than my daily routine and my purpose has yet to come…but their purpose…well, they’re living it.
My solution? Well the obvious one is to be the different one and pursue the goals as intended. Most of the time its easy. I’m drifting into that state again, though. That state where I feel left out. Where the cute guy that flirts with me turns out to be…well, lets just say not a virgin. Where the girls I called my best friends are…hanging together and I wasn’t invited. Of course this isn’t the first time I’ve experienced this. Its such a normality now. It just hurts. Every time. And every time. I feel more useless and awkward and different. The sudden urge to get up, leave without warning and never return…is followed by the temptation to text that hot guy knowing he won’t text back…then an urge to drive off and be rid of it all…followed by a risky Facebook post obviously pointing fingers out of frustration…sigh. Introverts go through more than you know, World. More than you know.
I’m not insecure; I’m confident. I’m not desperate for attention, though I would welcome it if from the right people. Don’t get me wrong I love being an introvert. We view the world in such a unique and inspiring way. After all…”if I spent even half my time in productivity as I do in people-drama, I’d be halfway to the moon by now.”