I'm So Sick of Being Tired

I think the most tragic thing one can be depressed about is what-ifs. 

You know exactly what I mean- those fleeting possibilities of the future that seem so wonderful, but can't happen for whatever reason. Breaking up with a girl/boyfriend, and knowing that you could've made it. Taking up a job offer, but maybe you would've climbed the corporate ladder at the other? And sometimes it's not even that specific. Just a vague, general understanding of all the things you'll never have. 

I had a faint idea beforehand, but today I finally realized what's going to break my heart the most about moving in a year. 

The what-ifs. 

I've always been a sucker for what-ifs, and probably always will be. And I hate myself for it. But right now, all I can think about is how I'll never get closer to all these cool people, never go on that amazing trip next year with them, never have inside jokes and never be friends with them. I'll just be the awkward little girl in the corner, with a laptop, who barely speaks. And just thinking of all the things I could possibly do with them, but won't. . . It's a particular type of tragic. I thought I'd found this amazing little niche of cool people that, given time, I could become friends with. Enter the circle, or whatever cliche you'd like to use. I was so excited, and I still am. 

But now tears are blurring behind my sunglasses, because none of those little day dreams will ever come true. I've considered quitting the group altogether, for fear of getting attached and making the move hard, but we've already established my shameless greediness, so it should be a given that I'll still attend the events and laugh quietly at all the jokes I wish I was a part of, in a semi-masochistic fashion. Is it weird that I like people I barely know? That I'm already depressed because I won't be- can't be friends with them? They're the the kind of people I'd kill to know, but that will never happen now and I hate it, I hate this powerless feeling, and I hate my constant resignation to being alone, because it makes life so much easier. 

Hell, even internet friends complicate life. All those "best friends", and all the tears shed over them. . . It get's depressing after a while, and I should really know better by now. But the tentative hellos, asking if I'll be there next week, the smiles and laughter and everything I wish I didn't want, hate myself for wanting. I can't help it, and that sucks. And I just know that there won't be anyone like this motley group in TN, and suddenly I'm struck by how much I sound like a whiney 8 year old. 

But I don't care. I like this group. I like being the fly on the wall, watching all these intriguing and funny people partake in their inside jokes. It feels like some sort of twisted privilege, just being in that atmosphere. It's infectious, and in some ways, it's even better just being the fly. I only see the good parts of the people, not close enough to see their flaws, which they must have. They're like the group of cool kids in high school, if you'll pardon the overly cliche analogy, and I'm just the English geek, derping around in the corner. Except they're cooler and don't realize they're cool and now I just sound like a creepy fangirl, but that's what I am anyway, so no matter. 

I just wish I could see those "what-ifs" play out. Wish I could go on the trip and split a hotel room and laugh and share experiences and enjoy myself. I thought I was going to make it easily through this move, what with all that alleged apathy, but obviously not. Like a kid, I was so excited to make friends. 

Welp. Guess I really am just a whiny 8 year old.