People are coming back from break now, trickling in a few at a time, and life at ML is starting to return to normal. I still don't feel normal, though.

I don't know what it is. But these past few days, I have just not felt like talking as much. I haven't felt as social. I don't want to deal with all the people and all the noise. I just want to withdraw and zone out, just listen to music and maybe read some. I don't want to have to think, and I don't even want to feel right now. I just want to exist right now, and let the world carry on around me without me really participating in it. I don't even care enough to observe right now. I just want to tuck myself away, distance myself from everything and everyone.

Or almost everyone, anyway. The one person I want to talk to right now, the one person I actually want to be with right now, isn't here. And that just makes being around other people that much harder, I think. Because while I love all my friends, there is a difference between hanging out with them and hanging out with him. That's obvious, I know. As soon as you add the prefix "boy-" onto it, the meaning of the word friend is changed at least slightly. But I don't think I ever really thought about that all that much until now.

Maybe I'm attributing my desire to withdraw to the wrong thing, though. Maybe it has nothing at all to do with him being here or not. I can't really tell. If this was a psychological experiment, it would be very poorly designed. There are too many variables to figure out what exactly is causing what. So I can speculate all I want, but I can't be sure of anything.

Maybe I'm just making up for the time I've been here... The time that I've spent being more social than I ever was back home. Back home I could retreat to my house, my room. But here my house is my dorm, which is a social scene in and of itself. And even my room has a social aspect to it, since I have a roommate. So there's very little true solitude to be found here, which is something that's a bit unusual for me considering how much time I used to spend in my room.

I think it's probably a combination of the two things... Missing him and just a need for the true solitude that always used to be available to me. It seems odd that these two things would be combined... How can you combine missing someone with wanting to be alone? Maybe if he was here I wouldn't feel the need for solitude. Or maybe I would still want to be alone and I'd end up pushing him away for awhile. I'm more inclined to believe it's the former. I've been checking my email too much for it to be the latter, I think.

And that bugs me... The checking of email. Not the act itself, but the tinge of dependence that I'm starting to associate with it. Maybe dependence is the wrong word... I think it is. I don't need an email from him. But I want one. So I guess it's more like a strong attachment than a dependence. I think I got spoiled by the beginning of break, when he was sending them more often. I began to expect them, and now they're not really coming, or at least not at the rate they used to. And yes, that does make me a bit sad. And I hate that fact. I'm fine with being attached to the person. Being attached to receiving emails, however, is not a good thing. Because what that really means is that I want constant assurance and verification. And I think that that may be true, but I really wish it wasn't.

Actually... Who am I kidding? I basically know that I need to be reassured a great deal. Otherwise I start doubting and worrying. I always doubt myself... I always worry. At times, I seem to have trouble accepting the idea that I'm a person worth caring for or loving. So when something seems amiss I start fretting over it and concoct all sorts of worst-case scenarios about what could be going on, about why this is happening. I think there's only been one time when what I feared was going on actually was occurring. All the other times I was worried too much or had come up with some awful scenario that was not true at all. Despite this, I continue to worry. I know all the evidence tells me that it's stupid. I know it's stupid. But I can't stop myself. The doubt creeps in, sneaks into the back of my mind, and sets up camp there. From there it spreads it's little worrisome tendrils out into my thoughts, plaguing me until I can think of nothing else or actually confront it in some way.

I really wish I wasn't like this. I wish I knew a way to make it stop. I wish I could accept things as they are and not want constant reassurance. Maybe that's why I like those little things so much... They're like tiny reminders that yes, I am cared for... They're tiny deterrents against the ever-lurking fear of rejection. Every little compliment, every little note, every favor done without asking... They're all reassurances strengthing my confidence, making me feel a little bit better about myself, about the situation, about life.

Maybe it would be better if I didn't need the little things, if I was sure enough of myself that I'd be fine without them. But I'm not that sure. So I accept them with open arms and I hope that they keep coming.