vent thread 4 all

Not sure if anyone can relate but like, when I was younger, things seemed so much more exciting. Like, experiencing a beautiful sunset. But as I’ve gotten older, I rarely find myself being genuinely excited about anything. My heart doesn’t flutter and I don’t feel elated. I can acknowledge something looks beautiful or an activity is fun to do, but it all seems so… transient. Because I don’t find particular joy in most things, I’ve found that I don’t make many new memories, as I never store anything noteworthy enough to me personally. The same applies to my friendships. When I was younger, friendship seemed so precious to me— and, I don’t wanna say it isn’t anymore, necessarily. But like, when I was younger, I felt like my friends and I knew each other on such a personal level, and that we’d always be there for each other. Eventually, we all grew up and split apart, but throughout the majority of my young-manhood, I was stuck trying to piece us all together to the point where it became an obsession. I didn’t want to let go. Their indifference is what led me to become just like them, eventually parting ways. But I’m confused as to why they did so, unprompted. Ever since then, I’ve made new friendships and maintained them, but there’s a certain disconnect, a detachment, somewhere along the way. I have no problem talking about my emotions to them, as I am now, in this thread, openly expressing myself. But that desire to so genuinely commit myself, to feel that real connection— it’s not there anymore. I can laugh and talk about my interests and theirs, and our goals in life, and how the other person’s doing, emotionally, mentally, physically— but there’s something passive deep down and I really don’t like it. Don’t get me wrong, I like to see others smile, and to make them feel better. But there’s this fear within that I can’t hold a friend forever, and I suppose that make relationships seem so… fragile, definite, temporary. Perhaps that’s also the beauty of friendship, but to me, it makes it harder to really put my heart out there. The only person who’s truly stuck with me, apart from God, who I believe in, is myself, ‘till the day I pass. And that has caused me to become reclusive and hollow inside, though externally, I am personable. I don’t like being clingy, and I can’t stand clingy people. But I just wish that friendships extended to: we’d both be willing to stick with each other through our darkest days. Even in the face of the world against us, we’d hang on. But it seems so shallow now; hey, so you like that too? I’m into X,Y, and Z. Interests change, and so if a friendship is based off of that alone, then friendships are determined to fail. But it’s so hard finding a friend who, when common interests are put aside, or circumstances change, families start up, distances grow further, is still there with you; even if years pass without speaking to each other. This may sound selfish, but I’ve never been able to replicate those personal connections I had back then. I know what that real understanding feels like, and so, not being able to return to it, as well as not being able to find it with newer faces, despite putting my whole being into it, is crushing. And I can’t help but think, if even those peak connections fell apart, then what’s the point of committing to anything but? Conversely, when faced with someone venting at times, though I’d like to help and truly care, I find it so hard comforting someone— when before, it came so natural. That makes me seem calloused and insensitive, I’m sure, but in truth, I have no energy dealing with my own struggles, weaknesses, problems. This long spiel is something I’d struggle reading from someone else; but alternatively, I’m surprised I mustered the emotional strength and energy to type this all, as facing it is so exhausting. That’s why something like a best friend or a girlfriend seems so unappealing to me— because I have enough problems of my own. So then, I’d like a true friend, and I’d like to be a true friend, but I contradict myself. And that angers me even more. I just feel so conflicted and confused. I hold my younger self in higher regard, as he was so innocent and sincere. And I’m trying to remember how to return to that, but the task is so daunting. Also, I hate sounding dramatic, and the last thing I desire is comfort. That’s not the purpose of me saying this all. I guess this is just an acknowledgment of a downwards spiral that I’m struggling to solve.