Birthday Solitude

It's really quite easy to be alone in law school, if you want. Particularly if you don't drink and spend lots of time trying to keep up with the reading.

My birthday's this weekend, and although I'm not generally a fan of solitude... for the first time in a long time, I think I'd like to spend this one alone. I need a moment in time to pretend that I'm the only person in the world... or at least, to have a day entirely to myself.

I can't name a single person here at law school. (As in, "single") Every last person I know here is either married, has a fiancee, or a significant other. It's a wonderful thing, of course - but the one thing that's inescapable is that it seems, in every conversation that lasts more than a few minutes, matters concerning said spouse/fiancee/significant inevitably arises in conversation, almost without exception. I'm glad people are happy, I really am. And if they're having problems, I've always been willing to lend an ear.

It grates a little bit, though. I don't think people really understand that. I can tell them, and they can nod their heads and tell me they empathize, but not a single person I know here at the law school has ever quite grasped it.

"Oh, it's good to see how happy you are :) "
internally, demon says: just another reminder of how single >you've< been, eh? heh heh heh

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear you're having problems... do you want to talk about it?"
internally, demon says: oh, listen to them whine... they're just going to tell you how awful and how much trouble it is to have a significant other, oh woe is them...

"You haven't dated in 3 months, and being alone sucks? Yeah, I hear ya..." internally, demon says: oh, f*cking cry me a river and drown in it, will you? 3 months is nothing, try *never*, *forever*. Try being told that you were never good enough for anyone. Can't take a year alone? Try ten. Try more.

But it's the natural topic of conversation. It's so close to everyone's lives. Friends share their joys, their hopes, their dreams, their fears, their disappointments, their triumphs, their confusion... they share these things with me *because* we're friends. If I were a stranger, I would not be privy to these thoughts and musings. If I were a stranger, my reaction wouldn't matter. It is only because I am a friend that there is a wish, or a need, or desire for them to share various aspects of their lives with me. Sometimes they want feedback. Sometimes, they just want someone to listen. But I count it as one of my personal bits of damage that every mention of this particular topic stings me a little bit. Almost every substantive conversation with a friend, therefore, leads to a little prod with the pitchfork. It's not the friend's fault - it's the demon who's doing the digging. (Think I'm oversensitive? Try reopening a wound regularly over the course of 10 years. No one with even half a heart left would have skin thick enough to be pricked so and not bleed.)

I don't want to tell them this. It would drive a wedge into our friendships. It would lead to awkward silences, hesitation, and interest-kill in conversations. If they knew that they were causing me discomfort just by *talking* about it, they would perhaps not talk to me at all. And then I would be truly alone, moreso than now. If my friends had to tiptoe around my feelings every time we talked, we certainly wouldn't talk as much - and my companionship would lose a lot of value, I'm certain of that.

The patience to deal with this is part of the price of friendship. It's a price I pay regularly, the wages and toll of the deeper bonds that reach farther than casual camaraderie. On net, we all come out ahead. It's just that lately... it's come to a head, and I find that, for just this one birthday perhaps, I find myself with this strange feeling...

That which I've never wanted, that which I've hated, that which, for every day in the last ten years or more I've wished away with all my might... is what I want for my birthday.

Just for a day, to be alone.