For the second time in five years I've just put myself through what must be a pretty accurate representation of my own personal Hell:
Social situation? Check.
Food I don't like but kind of have to eat? Check.
Crap music? Check.
Nobody else who enjoys being the wallflower as much as me? Check.
Drunks? Check.
And why did I put myself through this? I think pretty much anyone who knows me well enough to actually be reading this knows the answer to that one, because it's the same reason as last time. I have a rule now about not saying the word, but you know what I mean. And if anything it was worse this time because it was in vain. OK, ultimately, it was in vain last time too, but it was massively in vain then; the sheer scale of the vainness was practically incomprehensible and therefore easy to ignore. Plus there was a secondary goal that was easily achieved and there were other consolations then too; the sympathy of people who knew the struggle, who could commiserate. Just closer friends.
No consolations this time - no second prize or participation trophy - and no-one to reach out and show solidarity. Lugubriosity is your friend at times like these. Enjoying the sensation of sadness obviously makes any pain more bearable but loneliness is a whole other thing. I've always enjoyed being alone too, but I'm never lonely then. Being in a crowd of people you just can't connect with is the loneliest you could ever be.