I have begun to take frequent naps throughout the day; 2 or 3 hours here and there to rest, which, although feels amazing, has begun to alter my daylight hours. The only way I manage to keep track of time has fallen to my class schedule. I wake up for class, go to class, return home, and nap/eat/watch movies, and then sleep until my next class.

This all sounds regular and normal, you say. And I suppose that may be, but the truth is it’s very dull. I have friends whom I see off and on at random times throughout my day, usually none one for more than 20 minutes in a turn. I feel like I’m falling away from them, from their relationships and their schedules. I was asked by a friend I figured I was close to, ‘Where have you been, Kate? Have you been alright? Are you planning on visiting with us friends anytime soon?’ and my answer was surprising, for I realized that I was not the only one falling away from friendship.

You see, when I lost the privilege of my cell phone a few months ago, it seemed like a tragedy, but one that was (for the most part) quickly forgotten. It was difficult to get a hold of me, for sure, but I found that people were making a greater effort to schedule time with me than ever before. The lack of constant communication had made my time special to them. Seeing me was a pleasant surprise and spending time with me was even more so.

However, as the euphoria of that particular challenge wore off, I started seeing my friends less and less. They no longer shout to catch my attention when they see me down a class hallway. No longer knock on my door when they feel the need to share exciting news. No longer bother to invite me to parties or events, or even to watch movies, because they feel that the effort of trying to get a hold of me is wasted. When really, it is not.

I am constantly available, and have always made myself so when it comes to friends and relationships. I’m all for dropping my essay to watch Peter Pan, or bake muffins, or play Scrabble, or walk to get groceries when I don’t need any. I’m always around, because I have nothing to do anymore. No one to hang out with. No one to say, ‘Hey, I’ve been wanting to visit Vallue Village forever. Wanna come?’.

No. There are no people offering such excitements to me anymore, to visit me. They’ll see me when they see me, as it is so often put. When I run into them, they say ‘Hello’ and ‘How are you, Kate?’. And I’ll say ‘Just fine. As always’. And they say ‘What are you up to?’ to which I’ll constantly, and forever reply, ‘Oh, you know, doing nothing, as usual, all by myself’. And they’ll smile, and be friendly, and slowly walk away.

Because one of ‘our’ friends had just texted them to meet up somewhere, and they don’t have the time to invite me anymore. 

I have begun to take frequent naps throughout the day; 2 or 3 hours here and there to rest, which, although feels amazing, has begun to alter my daylight hours. The only way I manage to keep track of time has fallen to my class schedule. I wake up for class, go to class, return home, and nap/eat/watch movies, and then sleep until my next class.

This all sounds regular and normal, you say. And I suppose that may be, but the truth is it’s very dull. I have friends whom I see off and on at random times throughout my day, usually none one for more than 20 minutes in a turn. I feel like I’m falling away from them, from their relationships and their schedules. I was asked by a friend I figured I was close to, ‘Where have you been, Kate? Have you been alright? Are you planning on visiting with us friends anytime soon?’ and my answer was surprising, for I realized that I was not the only one falling away from friendship.

You see, when I lost the privilege of my cell phone a few months ago, it seemed like a tragedy, but one that was (for the most part) quickly forgotten. It was difficult to get a hold of me, for sure, but I found that people were making a greater effort to schedule time with me than ever before. The lack of constant communication had made my time special to them. Seeing me was a pleasant surprise and spending time with me was even more so.

However, as the euphoria of that particular challenge wore off, I started seeing my friends less and less. They no longer shout to catch my attention when they see me down a class hallway. No longer knock on my door when they feel the need to share exciting news. No longer bother to invite me to parties or events, or even to watch movies, because they feel that the effort of trying to get a hold of me is wasted. When really, it is not.

I am constantly available, and have always made myself so when it comes to friends and relationships. I’m all for dropping my essay to watch Peter Pan, or bake muffins, or play Scrabble, or walk to get groceries when I don’t need any. I’m always around, because I have nothing to do anymore. No one to hang out with. No one to say, ‘Hey, I’ve been wanting to visit Vallue Village forever. Wanna come?’.

No. There are no people offering such excitements to me anymore, to visit me. They’ll see me when they see me, as it is so often put. When I run into them, they say ‘Hello’ and ‘How are you, Kate?’. And I’ll say ‘Just fine. As always’. And they say ‘What are you up to?’ to which I’ll constantly, and forever reply, ‘Oh, you know, doing nothing, as usual, all by myself’. And they’ll smile, and be friendly, and slowly walk away.

Because one of ‘our’ friends had just texted them to meet up somewhere, and they don’t have the time to invite me anymore.