The emotional liar

I have come to love going by train. Currently sitting in an old train cabin I look through the rain stained windows. Trains has become one of these few places where I get the chance to really think. There is a soothing calm to feel the train shake lightly beneath you while you watch the world pass by. 
Of course I always think of the same thing. In different shapes and contexts but more or less the same thing. Love in the shape of past failures, moments of happiness ruined by the misery that followed, potential future lovers, that guy, and current complications. Of the third half of relationships that was, about the almost first half of the ones that never happened and about the dreams and ideals of what will never be. And unfortunately… about the insinuations from friends. 
A few days ago I had a chat with a friend who started rambling on how I was the only single female he knew, how I was terrible at romantic things and should be happy that I at least was not male (not really sure what he meant by that last part). I am pretty sure he meant well but it didn’t make me feel particularly good, after all he was insulting me pretty badly. I played along to some degree, joked about it and told him of when he stepped out of line. What he said didn’t cut very deep, I have recently gotten used to friends looking at me with some mixture of misdirected pity at my single status or tells me about that awesome guy who would be perfect for me (I really doubt it). What bothered me was that I really got the feeling that he didn’t know me at all. 
This disappointed me because once I thought he could see right through me. We met at a time when we both simply needed someone to care and it developed into that rare kind of friendship that would there have been any level of attraction between us, it would have been a romantic relationship. This is probably the only experience like that in my life. A similar yet the complete opposite relationship seems to be the only comparison I can make. One in which we gravitate towards each other in some almost aggressive manner, but not understanding each other remotely. 
I often say that what I miss the most in life is a person who understands me and it disappoints me when I realize that my close friends misinterpret me so gravely. Of course a person who truly gets you belongs to the dreams and ideals that never will be. No one truly understands anyone else. Occasionally we meet someone who comes close enough, but even this is a very rare thing. Humans are in my experience very bad at looking further than their own eyelashes. After all really seeing someone takes a long time and involves a lot of effort. I hold no delusions of being an exception. 
Truth is that we are all self-centered, cowardly liars. Some lie intentionally with words meant to deceive, others from the hopes of their hearts – for what they want to believe. They lie to themselves and others, often not knowing, or wanting to know, that the border of truth was past a long time ago. Fear gripping them in face of their own miserable truth. While I am no stranger to lie with words, I’ve gotten stuck in being an emotional liar first and foremost. I am sure this is pretty common in our culture. At some point it became ugly to feel, it is something to be embarrassed about. If we like someone – we should be ashamed, if we are angry – we are bad people. if we are sad – we are mentally unstable, if we are happy – we gloat. That last one, at least, I pay little mind to. Exposing your feelings makes you vulnerable, a potential victim for others to taunt and everyone around you takes your display of emotion as a mental breakdown needed to be corrected. 
I am currently not looking for love, and I am not saying that with self-protection in mind. What I do look for is a place where all the feelings never allowed to be felt can be displayed without any traces of judgment, personal fear or “don’t worry I will help you”. Something that I have sadly come to realize is not possible among most of my friends. Their well intentions points out that being single must make me unhappy, a failure in their eyes, and that it is their jobs as good friends to find me a new guy. Instead I want that effortless existence where I am simply good enough just being me. It is true that I joke a lot about everyone getting married around me, because lets face it, I might actually be the only single female I know as well. But this is not intended to be an invitation to “fix” me – I am not broken! 
So to you friends who believe me lonely, don’t be bothered that I am single – it does not mean, as some of you indicate, that there is something wrong with me. Don’t mention that guy you think would perfect my life. I don’t believe that we should bind our emotional well-being to other people. It is true that I don’t know exactly what I am looking for, but I do know what I don’t want – and I fear that this is exactly what you so kindly are trying to force upon me. 

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