Since launching Austin Bookworm and baring it to the world, I've become mildly obsessed with checking blog stats. I didn't even know blogger tracked that stuff until last week, and now I check it regularly, and get a little bit excited when the number of page views shoots up, if even for a moment.

It makes me feel a little less alone.

Ironically, one of the most-viewed posts on this blog recently has been something I wrote a little over a year ago. It was about loneliness, and if you care to inflate my stats and see what I'm talking about, you can find it here.

It's funny how much of a difference a year makes and yet not at all. I'm in an entirely different place, mentally and spiritually, than I was when I wrote that. And yet in the same token, I had just moved, was adjusting to a new home and a new community, and was feeling the pains of adulthood.

And here I am now. I just moved, I'm attempting to adjust, and I'm wincing from the growing pains associated with that. And there's more: I won't be going home for Christmas for the first time in my life, and while my parents will be coming to Texas the week following, it's going to be a difficult holiday season. Even more, my older brother just got engaged, and while I couldn't be happier for him and for his soon-to-be-wife, I stand as the last and only single person in my small family, a position that has not yet failed to make me feel invisible amongst those I should be closest to. And then today, someone who might have been more than a friend at one time decided that Austin was too far of a drive for his intended visit this weekend, and so he'll be traveling to New Orleans instead (it's further). That last one I prompted, in a way...I was apprehensive about the visit, and I finally called and talked to him about it, but I didn't expect what followed.

To be honest, I just feel numb tonight. The last few days have been hard, and I've cried enough to water the plants. I need to go running, I need to sew, I need to clean, and I need to actually make dinner. I need to do these things, and yet I don't want to. What I want is for someone to walk in my door, smiling, because they're so glad to see me. I want them to hold me in their arms, and I want the promise that they'll be back tomorrow and the next day and every day after.

But that's not going to happen. So instead, I'll go hit the treadmill and churn out a few miles. I'll finish making the yoga mat bag I started on Sunday, and I'll put the rest of my laundry away. I'll skip making dinner and go around the corner for pizza or falafel because even though my budget tells me to cook, sometimes cooking for one is just too hard.

And tomorrow I'll do it again. And again the next day. At some point, my heart will heal just a little, and I'll regain the hope that someone, someday, might stick around in my life for longer than a few days, weeks, or months.

And if nothing else, training for a half marathon will get me in such good shape that I'll be happy to attend my brother's wedding alone. It's much easier to flirt and be dazzling without some chump on your arm anyway.*







*Okay, that's only kind of true. Chumps = bad news, nothankyou. Good guys = totally worth giving up the flirty-fun-for-now-but-going-nowhere-crap.