Isolation, And Expectation

Over the last few months, I have felt an exhausting isolation. I do not write personal posts these days, but this isolation has troubled me, frustrated me, and fascinated me. I felt immensely hurt by the acts and the words of some people. In the process, sometimes, I hurt other people. I tried to rationalize the actions of people, and ultimately, everything came down to my expectation, and it was the disappoinment of not living up to that expectation, that made me feel hurt. Perhaps, it was my fault to expect anything in the first place itself. Thus, I am learning to not expect anything, and trying to think from someone else's point of view as well. This takes a lot of patience, and requires to stay away from some core emotions. I am not sure if I will completely become like a monk, but at least, I can try to temper down my expectations.

This isolation made me reflect on my own characteristics which I did not think I knew earlier. I am not a talker at all, I am generally very quiet, but I realized I really miss talking about my feelings. I miss having a really good friend. I have some friends, but those friends are not really there, like they don't really understand, or they are actually not here. I am not talking about a romantic relationship, but a sort of a friend that you can relate to, and tell him everything, like your thoughts, desires; somebody with whom you can really share stuff without any judgement. Last year, I had gone through such a harrowing experience and I really wanted someone to just listen to me, but I had no one. I went through it all by myself, bottling up a lot of things. I went on a trip recently, and I wanted to tell so many things, but I couldn't. As they said in The Lunchbox, "We forget the things if we have no one to tell them to." I want to tell that I have a crush on someone, that I saw this thing in this movie, that I have this problem to solve, that I want to grow a beard. I am surprised by how much I tweet because I use that as a medium to share. I read this article on WSJ that as you grow older, it is so difficult to make friends. It is actually very true. I know as an almost thirty year old (next year, I will be thirty *cries*), I am talking like a three year old, but I miss having a person, my person, a friend. I don't know if I will find one, but not losing hope, perhaps, someday, I will.