A Simple Night

I went on one of my (used to be) signature walks tonight. It was a beautiful occasion to do so: slightly windy and, although cloudless, with a hint of impending storm in the air. For a moment, it was nice to be alone and in the ever-more-slightly-decrepit streets of my neighborhood.

I do like being alone a lot more than other people seem to. In fact, when I've been surrounded with people for more than, say, a day, I relish time spent completely alone. But, except for (thankfully!) the presence of my boyfriend 3-4x a week, I have, perhaps, too much time on my hands in which to be with me.

Because of my affinity with being alone for a great chunk of time (at least, more often than other people tend to desire to be alone), I used to fancy myself as a private person. But reality proves otherwise. Last week, my pastor commented on how I tend to say private things (nothing too private, I'd hope) on Facebook. Those things I say- little things, inklings of things, random thoughts I wish people would listen to in real life- are outpourings of a spirit starved, rightly or not, of relationships.

My boyfriend, only somewhat jokingly, says the reason I haven't any friends is the fact that I have chosen to be a Christian vegan and have unwillingly become a type 1 diabetic. That, combined with my natural tendency towards shyness and my seeming inability to adequately connect with people so as to make them see me as a source of a friendship, makes for a kindly (I'd hope) yet lonely self.

At this point, despite all the difference, despite my doubts, despite it all, I'd love to just have a decent (girl) friend. She needn't be vegetarian or vegan, just need to be willing to try the vegan cookie or breakfast pizzert here and there. She needn't be Christian, just open to hear of my various spiritual quandaries. She needn't be diabetic, just able to shove sugar down my throat if need be or inject me with my brand-new, shiny glucagon shot (lol). She needn't be as much of a stick in the mud as I, just be okay with a typically-toned down friendship and have the ability to remain sober. She needn't be pretty, thin, healthy, or anything. She'd just need to want to be my friend, and that is the problem.

Because I lack such a friend, I allow my thoughts (my pearls) to fall before others who care not (swine) in such an unrefined and vulgar manner as to render them immediately coarse and base (and to render my being as a trampled, shred of the human I'd like to be). Because I am shameless, I shall not discontinue this practice.

For instance, my future fertility is heavy on my mind. Secondary amenorrhea has set in, and though the outcome of the blood tests I took nearly two weeks ago have not been divulged to me, I fear my diabetes has brought on PCOS or some other similar hormonal imbalance. Whatever it is, the absence of my period seems a harbinger for the absence of the ability to have a biological child. That, coupled with my semi-poor blood glucose control, worries me that any child I might have will either 1. die of miscarriage, 2. be stillborn, or 3. simply not come into existence.