Boredom + insecurity = less than stellar weekend

I get bored very easily. Often I worry that this will ruin my entire life, as it tends to keep me moving every year or two, changing jobs pretty much seasonally, and forgetting to commit in relationships with members of the opposite sex until the interested man has done gone off and married someone else.

By 'ruin my entire life' I pretty much mean 'keep me from settling down in any capacity until one day I wake up 40, alone and broke and destined to be so UNTIL I DIE.'

But I can't help it. I'm restless and fidgety and want to live everywhere and meet everyone and think it's sad when people start stories with, "I was at my last job for 12 years."

So maybe I run. I don't know. I try not to look at it that way, but understand how some might. I've always been able to take pride, however, in the fact that, despite all my running, I refuse to become bored with people. To me, people are important, and though that sentiment paired with my reserved-ish ice-queen tendencies may make me a bit of a walking oxymoron, I truly believe that people are nothing without other people, and that if I saw something in a person that piqued my interest in the first place, there is something in there worth finding, and appreciating - forever. Letting people in might not be the easiest thing in the world for me (is it for anyone, really?) but when I do, you're in. For good. At least, I think.

This could be reactionary. I was blessed/cursed with an outgoing personality, a quality of some sort that at times draws other people to me, excites people. Of course, when it comes down to it, though, I'm just a person. Flawed, moody, childish and stupid at times. Most people accept this about people, because most people, I think, understand one another as much as possible, considering humans are by nature so damned difficult to comprehend. It seems, though, that I have a tendency to burn out in peoples' eyes. Burn out. Hm. Sounds like I'm an aging rockstar. Not what I mean. Sometimes it just feels like people get bored with me. Like there's so much flash and initial excitement and they're all, 'Summer! Love! You! Are! My! Favorite! Ever!' and then one day I'm tired and don't want to dance, or I don't have a joke, or I vocalize a dissenting opinion as opposed to just smiling and laughing and agreeing and selecting the evening's destination, and then, BAM. I suddenly realize I was intriguing to these people for a fraction of my personality, not for who I am.

So I sort of always vow not to do that to people. People are important. People are fragile. People can be hurt even when they try to pretend they're stronger than people should be, and, yes, people are kind of nothing without other people. So I don't drop people. I don't tire of people.

And then last night, my roommates and I had a party. Typical. Fun. But I wasn't feeling it. What I was feeling was that familiar restlessness, that sense that it might be time for something new, somewhere else, someone new. And I started to look around and feel ... tired. And over it. Over ... everyone?

In a room full of good people, intelligent, funny, attractive, kind people who have been nothing if not my whole life for the past six months, I began dissecting pretense I thought I was seeing, and weighing friends against other friends and wondering what it is I really like about anyone, and if it's worth it to me or to them for me to even be here.

I hope it's stress. Fatigue. Mono. PMS a week or three early. Because I don't like this feeling. This feeling that I could be, for a moment, all I loathe. This feeling that for all the dissecting I did, someone across the room could have been doing it to me. And that would kill me a little. I never want to do it again. People are too important. My friends are too important.

But I'm still sort of restless. And definitely worried.