I'm not an overly-emotional guy. I don't wear my heart on my sleeve. I also don't mask emotions. I don't have the same expression on my face whether I'm happy, sad angry, etc. I find a happy medium. If there's something that I need to talk about, I will find someone with whom I can talk about it.
This Purim proved to be one of those times when I felt outwardly upset. By just looking at me, people could know there was something wrong. It all started on Motzei Shabbos when I continued my long-standing Purim tradition of going Yeshiva-hopping at night, starting with my own Yeshiva. Due to the fact that I have been out of Yeshiva for a year and a half, I really had nothing to do with the guys who are there now. There were a few still left who were now in a S'micha program but that was it. I felt out of place in a place that I had classically considered to be a home.
I went to two more Yeshivas where I became a part of drunken dancing, and watched a shpiel that I barely understood. Although I hate drunken dancing and shpiels never seem to be funny (even if you get all of the jokes), I felt that I should be a part of it all. It was then that I came to my realization of missing it. I still have my friends. I am still part of a group of people. I just miss the camaraderie that is only available in a Yeshiva setting. I don't have that now and I don't know if I will ever have it again.
Walking around, delivering Mishloach Manos and seeing all of the young families with themes did not help either. They were part of a group to a different extent. They had a closely-knit family and were proud to show it. I'm not saying that my family isn't closely-knit, we just never do things like that. It's not...us. We don't do themes and such. All of this combined (of course) to remind me that I'm still single.
I generally consider myself to be a happy person that people can always rely on to brighten a mood. I don't like being in this kind of a funk. It's just too difficult to ignore sometimes. Right now is one of those times.