Contact

It’s funny how people are made for connection, for community. How it is built into who we are. Wired into the way we react. A few years ago, I would have argued this as a deaf point, an unnecessary assertion. And now I notice it as the impossible truth.

Truth doesn’t always make things easier. Actually, sometimes it makes it harder. If you admit truth, you have to live by it. And sometimes, sometimes, there is no easy implication. I spend time, too much time, instead trying to convince myself of the opposite, the lie. “I don’t need people. That’s crazy! It’s too hard and too much work anyway. I’ll get used to it! I’ll write more again! I’ll talk to my teddy bears! I’ll become quiet, introspective, good...” Except, always, I fail. It’s hard to accept live a lie when the truth is so much sweeter.

I just spent an hour jumping between three e-mail accounts (kept for different purposes) and my facebook. Desperately looking for an e-mail, a status update, a posted picture...someone to send me a message or write on my wall. Someone to chat with. I was craving contact. Instead, however, I just came up impeccably short. The only contact I made in that hour was the artificial construction of involvement...where I can feel like I play a part in someone else’s life because I can see their facebook page. It was a poor alternative. It left me feeling jealous and empty.

There are friends I haven’t heard from in weeks. I miss them...dearly. But I wonder how many times I have to initiate to be granted a response. I wonder how much I have to reach out before [certain] somebody[s] finally reaches back. The funny thing is, I will probably continue to do so. Not because I’m a glutton for punishment but because I’m fairly certain I was made for connection, for community. It’s built into who I am. Wired into the way I react.