Mount Everest

Why am I writing here? Not because I have a reason, but just like Mt Everest, because it's there.
I have also just written a small piece on grabbing onto every fragment of connections to other people when you're living alone, and wondering where to put it. No, not into my rectum as three of you are already shouting at the screen (and one would have posted as a comment had I not saved her the effort) but online.
Basically it states that as I live alone not through choice, I cling on to any connection that makes it seem someone else is in my house when in fact they're not. This only applies to friends and family as I discovered with tenants it's better to be alone than with the wrong people. Same goes for girlfriends...

So traces of other people make me feel less alone. If I can't do much to have a real one in the friends or family category that's all there will be indefinitely. I remember the shock I felt on moving in to my first flat when for the first time in my life nothing there belonged to anyone else. 17 years later though I initially got used to that I've now entered another phase of realising the possible eternity of the situation and realising it isn't what I want. So I think of the secondhand elements that give you the impression someone's coming back or there when in fact they're not. Other people's things, writing on your pieces of paper and notebooks, hearing people next door are all ways it seems you aren't totally and permanently alone but I can't even control that. We have stored friend's items sometimes if they were moving or travelling around, but I haven't space where I am now even if someone wanted me to. The old guy in the adjoining house who just died was silent to me except for about three times, one when he was having his house rewired! The house has just been sold but I hope there aren't nutters or screaming kids as you can have negative noises as well, like the wankers who moved next door in my family house and spent thousands replacing the kit the last people just spent thousands on before they moved with drills and hammers, up till midnight for over a year, plus two yowling brats. That is not a pretty prospect and where I live is a mixture between honest hard working people and pimps. After 10 years next to the former I hope it's not my turn for someone dodgy as I'm only attached to another house on one side so it's rather important they aren't the fussy type or dubious.

I do wonder if I'm weird (anonymoushaha please don't rise to the bait) or many others forced to live alone miss other people around and read notes scrawled on pieces of paper with people's names and phone numbers on they wrote years ago for you as replacements for the real person? It's only a natural human need, and I believe one behind the escalation of my own mental state's decline as it is definitely a set up to stretch the most equable person, which I never was. I was always able to return to a comfortable and welcoming house after a hard day at work or any other battlefield, but when that ended I still coped after moving a few times to find somewhere I felt I could settle. The trouble was when I encountered similar stresses to those at home I was on my own and one by one this ate into any defences and left me vulnerable and needed tablets to replace the previous comfort of a family. Quite logical really. I know I'm sensitive but would rather be creative and sensitive than calm and dull. No one's going to remember me if I become like the run of the mill and didn't spout all sorts of nonsense, some of which was worth listening to and keeping. But sensitivity comes as part of that package, and I doubt can be separated so I can keep the good bits alone, it would be just like having a lobotomy. So if I'm stuck in one way, I try and move in another and hope people will understand if I'm having a bad day or week as I wouldn't ever wish it on them so they could understand what I can go through.

Depressing? Not really, it's just another aspect of my life and one that pops up from time to time in different forms but does change over periods. But being alone isn't a personal quality so will always get to me when I'm down or vulnerable as long as it's the case. Knowing I'd feel better if some remnants of other people were around is sad but true, and if I have the guts I'll post this somewhere more public and see what they say. I know where it'll go now, so I'll go and tell my aunties over the water as usual. Bye then.