I feel alone.
I don’t mean I’m all alone and nobody loves me. I won’t kill myself anytime soon. The closest friend I have here has lived in this city for the past five years, and so has his own friends to be with. To him I am a friend, but not one of the most significant people he has a relationship with here. To me, he is possibly the most significant person I have a relationship with here, in this city, this place. I don’t blame him. If I were in my own city and there was someone like me, someone who seemed to come only to me for almost any act of friendship, I would probably treat myself the same way. He probably treats me better than I would, in fact.

By the very act of writing this, I am acknowledging these facts. I know I can’t just latch onto him and hope everything will be ok. I know what it’s like to have a dependent person follow you around all the time, it’s not a pleasant concept. Why is it then, that I see only him as a proper friend in this place, this dormitory?

There is another like me, like me in that she counts only him and myself as actual friends here. I’m not sure why. Something to do with how people here are ‘fake’. I don’t quite understand what she means, but I have a feeling she would feel it even more in UWC. I wish I could be part of a group of friends again. A group of friends that went everywhere and did everything together. A group of friends where everyone in this group was each other’s main friends, closest friends. I had something like that once, in a city I knew and grew up in. that group grew smaller and smaller, and now is not only split up, but there are complications, complexities between us. Our circumstances change, our locations and environments are altered and familiar faces are swapped with those whom we never knew. Suddenly familiar people, places and circumstances are far away, the memories associated with them become the past. Unfamiliar people, unfamiliar places, unfamiliar circumstances become where we are.

You never know what you’ve got until it’s gone. You can’t miss them if you don’t leave. I’m not sure if what I left was as good as my mind is making it seem, but I believe that if I had it back I could try to make it better than what I am experiencing here.

I want to find someone. Obviously here would be the ideal location of this person. Someone who, when I was worrying, would laugh at my ridiculousness at love me for it. Someone who would admire my thinking and someone who would convince me to do ridiculous things with her. I wish I could find a girl who liked me for what I like. The music I like, the artwork I like, the clothes I wear, the colours of my hair, whatever it is that I embody. What is it that I embody? What singles me out compared with everyone else? What good, likeable, admirable thing singles me out from the rest? I don’t know. I wish someone did.

I’m having trouble holding conversations with people. I thought that around people who talk a lot, I stay quiet, and that around quiet people, I become the person that talks a lot. I’ve come to realise now that this is not quite as true as I had previously believed. I keep wanting to meet new people, but often nowadays I find myself floundering for something to say as they wait for me to ask them a question, now that I have answered theirs. I actually find it quite ridiculous, as I remember myself talking far too much in the past. How is it that I have come to be someone who says too little? I realise that there’s no immediate solution to this particular problem, but my only hope right now is that it does not continue when I return home.

Home. When I left it and came here, I had hoped that I would change.
But not like this.

My life was off-perfect before, to say the least.

But what the hell is happening now?