Feeling low tonight, for no particular reason. Or maybe it's a bunch of little reasons, all strung together. It's so hard to make new friends when you aren't working, aren't in school, and don't have the energy to join new groups or participate in new activities. Many of my old friends have moved on, moved away. Some have died or simply disappeared.
I miss people. My life was once surrounded by people, so much so that at times I needed an escape from all that crowd. Now it is empty; I look at a dark sky and think that friends are like stars, still shining at you but so far away they are nearly invisible.
I wish that I lived closer to the heart of the city. I wish that AgtOrange was less of a hermit. I wish I had more comfortable chairs and that my place was once again the kind of place where friends simply stopped by unexpected (well, maybe after a quick call to see if I was home). I used to keep exotic beers stocked in my fridge, even though I didn't drink it. Visitors were sure to always find something unique from a far away country... like traveling without going anywhere. I used to sing karaoke at a bar where everyone knew me, it felt more like the set of Cheers than an actual bar. It wasn't just the bartenders, we were literally so close that everyone knew everyone. Someone was dating someone and someone else was cheating, but at the end of the day it was a big drunken, singing family.
I used to dance. I used to sing. I used to do most anything.
I used to climb. I used to run. I used to be not a useless one.
I stopped inviting people over. I had little left to say to them in the time we'd spend catching up. I could talk about my surgery, my changes in medication, something new my doctor said. These things don't bother me to talk about, but it bothers people. It's not a search for pity, it's just that this is my life now, doctors and medications and therapy.
I can't tell you about the new restaurant down the street. As my fibro progresses, I find myself allergic or intolerant to just about everything; your body just shuts down. More and more I have to cook meals all the way from scratch to have food that doesn't make me ill. I can't hang at the bar, the barstools hurt, standing hurts, dancing hurts and I'm not supposed to drink. I can't go to the movies with you, not without painkillers anyway, because most movie seats are wretchedly uncomfortable. I spend the last half of any movie squirming to get away.
I suppose I could start a book club; we used to have one in the building. If I truly start baking again, I could have pie tasting parties. That could be fun. If...if...if...
I guess I'm just not looking forward to this surgery, or more specifically, to the long recovery at home. If these four walls are getting to me now, just think of how I'll feel in a week or so. I hope some people come to visit me.