Am I making something worthwhile out of this place?

I've been neglecting this thing again.

I sometimes feel that I'm living in some bizarro world. I never get anything done. But I'm always doing something.  A lot of times, though, that 'something' isn't anything truly productive. I keep thinking that I'll get time, but I don't make time. For what? Oh, I don't know... reading? Is that productive? Household chores? Boring, but necessary. I guess I do a lot of socializing. That can't be too bad, I suppose. It's often with the same folks; I love them, but I'm not really branching out. Not meeting any new interesting people. And I have let some other more long-standing friendships fall by the wayside. Then it comes down to that I know a lot of people, but only superficially.

Musings about your personal connections/contributions to the world and to the other people down in the muck with you generally come from some major event. Sometimes it can cause great grief to try and reshape one's philosophy after Something Has Changed... sometimes you get lucky and it comes along easily in one of those fabled "Eureka!" moments. I say fabled, as this doesn't usually seem to be the case. Sometimes you can only ponder on it and take the wait-and-see approach to determine if you will react differently the next time a particular situation presents itself.

There was such an event a couple weeks ago. I was only peripherally effected by the event itself, but the fallout has wormed its way through that outer layer to get to me more personally, and to prompt some reevaluation. Long story short: A shooting in Midtown Atlanta claimed the life of a young woman with both bright soul and bright future. She was in that stage of life where you really are just embarking on Bigger Things. She and her husband had only recently moved back to Atlanta, and had just become homeowners. At 26, she had been out in the Real World for long enough to know what is going on, but not long enough to have lost the ability to be optimistic and idealistic about where life was taking her. I had only met her once, but she was literal family to one coworker of mine, and figurative family to many others at Terrapin. While those "don't take life for granted you never know when it'll be gone/life's too short/yadayada" adages are of course appropriate and definitely part of this whole thinking on things because, well, they're true, I was more influenced by what this event did to people I care about. Seeing, yet not being able to truly understand, the level of devastation they felt was heartbreaking to me. I felt sick knowing that there were people I cared about who were hurting. I'm no good at dealing with other peoples' pain. I empathize entirely too much. I think that's a good thing. But what destroys me is that I can't fix what is destroying them.

But yes, all this has made me think. I've said many times that I know I am really good at shutting myself off from everything. I'm good at maintaining an arm's length between me and everyone I know. I'm too good at protecting myself from The Worst, and in the meantime that keeps me from getting to have a piece of The Best. This stems partially from that same fear of rejection in all of us; if someone actually knows you, they have enough information to determine if you make the cut or not. If they only know a few things, and for the most part you're a fairly decent person and not a raging asshole, then even if you don't make varsity you still get to sit on the bench with the team every now and then, maybe bring them water. No's almost always sting; Maybe's are not so bad.

Here's the thing, though. What if something happened to me tomorrow? Yeah, yeah, I know... But really, what would the outcome be? I should hope that there would be at least a few people to mourn me; drifting away unnoticed is also a basic human fear. But there is a difference- would everyone I know here be sad for a minute and then go back to normal? Or would there be some who would miss me and think of me for years to come? Have I made at least a small contribution to the life of another? Would the people I care about know how I loved them if I was suddenly gone and couldn't tell them? And what would people say about me later? If asked to say an eulogy for me, would anyone know where to start or have something of value to say outside of the few things everyone knows about me? Have I made a permanent impression on anyone and allowed them to do the same by opening up? If not, why? Because I keep myself at a healthy little distance, you know, just in case? How sad.

Last weekend a friend who's got about 10 years, a marriage, three kids, and his own business on me and I were sitting by a fire. We were talking about things like the above; how what had happened had made him want to get closer to people. Then out of nowhere, he said "Can I ask you a weird question?" Naturally I make a joke, saying "Depends on the question...". Then he asks me, "Do you ever get tired of being... of being... free?" I immediately understood that he didn't mean in the literal "America's A Free Country" sense. He was asking if I ever grew weary of my "free" lifestyle; yeah, I got a 9-5, but other than that I have no one to answer to, except three cats to feed. I get to do what I want, when I want, with whomever I want. Because I'm free. I can go out drinking every night, or turn off my phone and sit on my porch with a book. It's all up to me. I can hang out with people, or stay in by myself. It's the life a lot of people miss and say to take it while you can. He was asking because it's been a minute since he had that; he's not trapped by any means and loves what he has, but he does have responsibilities that must be attended to before playtime. But I have my freedom.

I thought on it for a second, and I realize now I didn't actually answer his question. I told him that it's just the way things are for me now, though this was never really my plan. I didn't have a plan, but I wasn't purposely trying to still be "free" at 30. I did believe in the past that I would be somewhere entirely different than where I am now. I told him it can get tiring sometimes, because when you're "free" and know other "free" people, it's hard to give them a viable excuse for not living up to your "free" lifestyle every night. Because they know that there's nothing else for you to do, may as well go out. I made a joke about it being expensive; going out costs money. I just said that while I did always envision that I'd be doing something else at this point, I'm not, so why not just enjoy it? I basically said "I'm not tired of it, but I'm not not tired of it, either" or more succinctly, "Meh".

The part I left out though... is that in ways, I am tired of it. With my "freedom", I come home to an empty apartment every day. I have no one to call and check up on me, no one to call and check up on. I have no one to share dinner at home with, or to cook for (maybe that's a good thing...), or to cook for me, or just get pizza with. There's no one here to sit on the couch and watch shitty movies with. There's no one to talk to late at night, or early in the morning, or on the weekends. Or to sit with on the porch drinking wine and reading books in silence. There's no one to get annoyed with about the dishes or laundry or empty toilet paper roll, or to annoy with me leaving my shoes all over the house. There's no one to bring me juice when I'm sick, and no one asking me to give them a back-scratch. Freedom reaches a point where it's actually just lonely. I don't view myself so much as "free" as I do "alone" anymore. That part- the lonely part... Yes. I'm tired of it.