What is it like to be ghosted? You are waiting, sitting at your computer or just looking at your phone thinking, why haven’t they contacted me? What did I do wrong? I have had a love/hate relationship with a young man from New Zealand, who I call the Literary for quite some time. He is young, egotistical, stubborn and arrogant. But he is a master of words and is quite intelligent. Of all the roleplaying partners I have had, he was the best; the most detailed and the most impressive. He was able to invoke feelings in me that I haven’t had for any man in his own unique way.
This morning, after a night of no sleep, it is a dawn of a new day. It is Easter morning, and as I was trolling the underbelly of an Adult Chat Room on this Holy Day, I began to think for once. What is the point of all of this? The indifference I have felt for the internet and online relationships in the past few weeks has led me to different revelations. I don’t really care anymore. I blocked the Literary after he suddenly signed off on Skype without any warning. It may be months or weeks till I ever see him again, but I need to stay out of that Adult Chat since that’s where he found me tonight. Too many other people can find me there too. Sure I could change my username and go in as someone else, but I pride myself on being articulate so “Articulate Lady” will always be my name there. I crave good conversation. I crave substance. I crave a good night sleep and a proper schedule. I crave employment to have a reason to get out of bed in the morning.
My impending review for my disability has left me crippled. I am dealing with the ups and downs of bipolar and am battling with it every day. I can’t break this obsession with that chatroom. I need to connect. I WANT to, so badly. It’s like a shot of dopamine every time I meet someone new and we have and amazing time communicating. You know that feeling when you get a “Like” on Facebook? That feeling you get when you get a “Like” on Instagram or Twitter? That’s what the connection of a person is for me in a chatroom. I need to be acknowledged. I need to be seen. But I want to make new connections. I need some substance in my life. This fucking review has me stunted. They are taking their sweet time coming up with a decision and every day that I have to wait before I look for a job has become excruciating. I need to fill my days. I need some purpose in my life. I will be 37 years old, for gods sake, in June. Have I nothing to show for 37 years on this planet?
I don’t know. I am just swarming in an ambivalent pool of despair. My life is put on hold. I need surgery on my throat to remove the huge tumor that might be cancer. Yeah, I have that gem to worry about. And of course I can’t afford the medical bills of such a surgery. I can’t even afford the biopsy needed for it and I am on disability! I can’t afford anything, and I can’t even get good healthcare. God this country is a mess.
Anyway, I will just get through this Easter Sunday with a prayer. A prayer for my life to come together, for my life to have meaning. Strength to stay out of those life-sucking chatrooms. I need hope, and most of all I need love. It’s the one thing I have wished for, for so long. I want to be loved by someone. I want to matter. Why is this so hard? When will the answers come? Well I will find out next time, I suppose.