Yesterday, I had a Phonetics class.

As the teacher was giving us our tests back, our mistakes marked and our results underscored, I reached for a sheet she was handing out to the table I was sitting at - the double kind of a table, where two students sit together - thinking I was the only one with the work done on a sheet. I glanced over the results, as I usually do, noticed the "5" - the highest mark in the Russian system of education - and went on with it... until my attention, first grasped with the effort of the unconscious mind, was brought back to the "done by" name. It was of my current tablemate.

I apologized as I handed the sheet to her. Could've sworn by the look on her face: she could kill me.

She seemed very tired, and she seemed to have been having a bad day back then, but it was clear to me at that moment: she wouldn't have treated me that way half a year ago.

I've been talking about my relationship with the group a few times now, over Pubski and #tfgbeenupto posts. Long story short, they went from decent to terrible in an evening and plunged to hell in a stretch of a few seconds.

Since then, I haven't visited the group chat once, even if it hinders my academic success somewhat. Initially, I was intensely ashamed of lashing out at my groupmate for a little shitty thing she said at a moment I was feeling down and defensive. It wasn't unwarranted, but it also wasn't something I feel proud of. Now, it's mostly about avoiding the group as much as I can. I do that when people are connected to painful memories. I haven't had a word with either of them (except Danila, the only other guy in the group) that wasn't warranted by the situation (i.e., "Is this seat taken?").

For a while, I felt lonely, but I got used to it. It was, after all, what I wanted, wasn't it?

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The concept of family by choice was always fascinating to me.

My family by blood never satisfied me: in their attempts to keep things unchanged, they were abusive, uncaring and unsupportive (with the sole exception of my cousin, Marina, who was always there for me). In the end, they did more harm than good to me, and I'm glad to be away from them for as long as I have been.

Yet, friends are people I choose to be with, rather than end up with by chance. These are people who share a part of my tight little world, people with whom I can be myself. These are people whom I can choose to be myself, not be demanded that - or, worse, be someone else.

I've always looked at academic units - grades in school and groups in uni - as families outside of the family. I grew up with the idea that those are the groups you simply belong to, where you are accepted no matter what. I guess it was my way of coping with the fact that by then, I didn't have a pack to belong to - something I wanted more the more I had none.

First try at uni, however, was a disappointment. I was never accepted but by a small number of people who already had little contact with the rest of the group. The rest simply ignored me - or so it seemed. It never occurred to me that I might have been the reason - one way or another - I never felt belonging.

The second time, when the same feeling of loneliness came around, I figured I'd do my best to be personable, to make it so I could belong to my group. Damned be the person who says I didn't try. I tried to be helpful, I tried to be funny, I tried to seem knowledgeable and reliable... Still, to my group - and to most of the people around me - I didn't matter much. It brought me a lot of distress and worry back in the day.

Once again, I was an outcast. This time, however, it felt like I wasn't just being quietly pushed away from the crowd: I was actively persecuted for speaking my mind, even after doing something most of my group vocally appreciated. It was stupefying. Now that I look at it, I recognize not being the best groupmate, though it was in part caused by said persecution. Still, conflict is perpetuated only if all parties agree to that. I recognize my part in things going the way they did.

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Today, I had a dream.

I was in a hospital bed, and apparently, something just happened to me. It was weird, because I seemed to have consciously chosen that backstory option; it was a dream, however, so maybe I'm overthinking it. Either way, some of my groupmates came to my bed, cautiously, paying close attention to what I do in response. They seemed genuinely worried about my state, even if they were also on alert about what I can do, like lash out at them for showing this worry. "Yeah", I said at some point, "having almost died there, I figured I'd be honest with you guys". Then another couple of people came, similarly cautious, but noticeably less so. I talked to them, as well.

Last thing I remember about that dream is that it seemingly ended with a music video to a song the meaning of which still echoes in my head. It was beautifully sang with a female voice, with a music arranged wondefully in tone, and I heard it so vividly... God, I wish I could retain it even for a day, just so I could translate the experience for someone to recreate. The only lyrics I remember at this point are this:

I'm a lonely wolf,

And you're my pack.

and, near the end:

If you hurt my pack,

<...>

It's not a threat:

It's a promise.

(can't remember whether it was "lone" or "lonely", but I have used "lonely" in the title without a second thought, so I'll stick to that here)

I was worried about the relationship with my group whose evening yesterday. It bothered me, though I couldn't put it into words yet. Today, it seemed to have been parsed just fine - an unusual occasion, to have an idea processed by the subconscious on the very next night.

I would still like to have good relationship with my group and the people in it. There are some people in the group whom I'd like to be closer to, because they interest me in one way or another. I care about their well-being, though I will never show it - not now, anyway. I still want to help them when I can, even when neither will I show it nor they - accept it.

There comes a moment in any relationship broken by fear of attachment when one has to admit to themselves what they truly feel - and, with that, free themselves of the anxiety and emotional chaos that such an attachment brings along. It's a strangely liberating moment when you admit to yourself that you're still in love with that person, despite years of anger you accrued while they were gone - and this is why you were so attached to them in the first place; this is why you still worry over them, despite not seeing them for the longest time.

I'd like to be a part of the group - but I can't forget their anger and apathy or my own intense attachment and wishful thinking. They caused me pain, but in part, it was a pain I invited and accepted for a promise no one had responsibility to fulfill. I'd like them to like me, but I can force nobody to such an attitude, let alone be angry at them being themselves. I'd like to belong, but perhaps, this is not where I belong.

Over the last couple of weeks, I've met two wonderful people whom I feel good around. They aren't perfect, but I don't need them to be. Within days, I'm closer to them than I am to any of my groupmates. I'm terrified to even think of that - afraid that they might disappear, like so many others, suddenly and without notice - but perhaps, I've finally found my pack.