The Truth Hurts
October 7, 2010
It hurts to accept the truth sometimes. At the point of accepting it, there is the occasional wish that maybe you could go back to your state of denial. This is the case for me. Unfortunately, I have realized the cold hard truth that if I was to die in my dorm room it would most likely not be noticed until the smell was putrid enough to indicate my demise. There is, of course, one slight exception to this theory, but this does not help ease the pain. The only exception is if my death was near a break such as Thanksgiving or Christmas where my parents would expect to be in contact to plan my ride back home. Otherwise, my dead body is just going to be there on the floor of my room. It sucks that I have no one that would notice in a few days that I was missing. There is no one that has the desire to be around me regularly and thus no one would feel as though there is something amiss if I was to go missing. To be succinct, I have no friends. Nothing hurts more about this fact than to know that I am the only one to blame. The fact that I am shy has no ability to ease the blame. I knew this about myself and did not push myself to the utmost limit possible to forge important relationships with people. Now I am all alone and frankly I deserve every second of loneliness. It is as though I am just waiting for the clock to stop ticking, limiting myself to the role of a spectator in this game we call life. How I will die is a mystery to me. I do, however, know that if I do not take action soon there will not be many people missing me. Hopefully I avoid the latter possibility.
