#forties

Consider A. N. Wyeth’s Winter 1946.

Consider Hopper's Approaching a City.

Body image

Financial resources

Success and other drugs

This year, I've been reflecting on loneliness. Although I'm rarely alone (and I am incredibly grateful for that, as The Thoughts™ are louder if I am) , I've been feeling profoundly lonely. I've reckon that I miss someone to talk to in a way that I can be fundamentally myself. Weird, spacey, blabbermouth me. I miss sharing my fleeting, bizarre thoughts brought on by the most banal of things, I miss freaking out with someone about a new show, a book, a fanfic. I miss touch (GODS, I miss physical touch so much. Fingers in my hair, an arm resting against mine comfortably while sharing space, a head on my lap. Simple things, platonic things).

I know I can have a good part of this with the ones in my immediate vicinity, the ones who share daily life with me. But certain things and thoughts are not for my sister's ears. And it's not healthy, or fair (I KNOW it's not), to put any part of my emotional needs on Badger's shoulders. I'm the one supposed to carry his burdens, and I do so with a glad heart. And again, many, MANY things and thoughts are not for my kiddo's ears.

My schedule and my financial situation are not ideal for frequent socialization. Currently, I go out with friends maybe once every two or three months, if that - when I was used to go out every two weeks before the pandemic, even if I haven't two coins to rub against each other. Money wasn't an obstacle, it was a fun plus. We were young and reckless before 2020, I guess. Wish I could go back to that mindset, for real.

Wish I could see my friends every week, the ones that live close. Wish I could travel at least once a month to see that ones that live far. Wish I could find my early thirties self hidden in some corner of my mind and push them to the forefront, to shake me from this funk.

If wishes were horses and all that.