“Don’t forget that you’re talking to someone whose career is to break down aspects of life into its most basic components in order to make sense of the chaotic whole. I don’t see them as people anymore, I just see them as parts within parts of a bigger whole.”
It’s becoming ever more difficult to relate to people these days. For the most part, the steady decline of my own verbal skills, much less my ability to interact with people, can be fingered on the project I’ve been working on the past year. Sure enough, within the past 3 weeks, I haven’t left the house for anything other than a 2 hour part-time job a week and an hour meeting with my supervisors. That and discovering there is no food at home and I have to rush to do take out because I’m short on time.
So my social life is non-existent. I think we’ve already established that in so many posts. Just that when people ask me how can I live with myself when I’m so driven for human interaction, it’s the only reason I can find to justify the loneliness.
There was a time in my life where being a sociopath was something to be proud off. Where emotions and feelings were irrelevant. It took me a long while to realise that I can’t live that life because feeling is part of my nature. Pretending it doesn’t exist doesn’t make it any less real. So now, emotions are relevant. They are what I have to deal with on a daily basis. But today, at least for the time being, I go back to pretending that it doesn’t exist, at the very least denying myself my own feelings as a need.
It is unhealthy. You don’t have to tell me that. Then again you aren’t here to provide the company I’d like to ease the stressful moments either. It’s easy to tell me to do this and that when you’re not the one living it. But I am here and the actions and all its consequences are mine to bear.
If my justification for “being alright” with the solitude relies on the part of me that breaks the world around me down to nothing more than a machine of cause and effect, so be it. It’s a whole lot easier than listening to the constant advice for a sickeningly optimistic perception that masks the bigger problem. I’ve been there. I’ve done that. I’ve grown past it. It’s just not for me.
In the final moments of this chapter, regardless of what you think about my methods. It works. It probably won’t seem like much to you, but I’m proud of everything that has transpired so far. I worked hard for it and I made it through appreciating every moment of it. Somewhere along the road, as long as the end result fits your perfect little picture, would you even care about how I did it? That’s the angle I’ve always worked with here.
Because at the end of the day, regardless of what you say or do, you keep forgetting that you don’t want to understand how I live my life. You stopped trying to put yourself in my shoes because all you can see is how your own life has worked for you. You’re looking at the same elephant through different eyes. So you know what? It doesn’t matter at all. You know you’re not responsible for my happiness.
But I am.