31 years on this rock and it always comes down to the same thing: I am who I am and who I am may just dictate that people will be hurt/annoyed/disappointed with me. The loner is not disdainful, just resigned. Experience is a brutal instructor and people are who they are just as I am who I am.
Someday I will be dead and at that moment finally I will be as discrete and measured as everyone has always desired me to be.
Do I feel like an outsider? Absolutely. Do people think that’s naive and narcissistic? Sure, but what does it matter? Do they propose to change the fact? Or will they just push me farther to the fringe by explaining to me the ways in which I’m wrong to think I’m on it?
Life has a way of telling one what it thinks over and over and over again. I won’t say that I don’t need anyone. I’ve never thought that. In fact, I need everyone. Everyone. But what I have is me.
If they’ll disown you for the thought and they’ll also disown you for its absence then what you can do is simple: tend your god damn garden. I have since I was a child wished that people could see inside me. Because despite never stopping trying and despite the facility that some have said I demonstrate with words, I’ve often felt as though I’m absolutely, categorically unable to connect to the world, or as though if I don’t want to be the outsider that I have to try to be something that I’m not.
I am who I am. I do not apologize to the world for it, but I also don’t reject the world or try to stand in opposition to it.
I guess right now I’m just tremendously lonely. Fragile? That too. After all, I’m a sweet guy most of the time but I’m largely held together by broken promises and abandoned prayers.
Only people on whom life has not actually been hard can say things like “Oh, life is hard on everyone.”
Or maybe that is one of my many (infinite, even?) unhealthy conceits.
Damn I’m lonely right now, here in this fucking I-House room. 🙁
Unbearable pathos dominates the realm of the fallen gods. By my own need for sociality I have always felt utterly censored. People think me honest only because they think me rude. I don’t always say what I think and fully 50 percent of my blog posts are hidden from the world, which absolutely pains me because they’re the ones I most wanted everyone to see when I wrote them.
An ex once told me that I was the most emotional unemotional (or vice versa) person she’d ever met. To this day I don’t know what that means, but I know that we didn’t stay together long enough for her to explain it to me and I’m pretty sure that afterward she hated my guts.
Those times when you most want to cry out are precisely those times at which you musn’t. Social being has taught me that over the years more than anything else. This lovely “individualistic” west can destroy a certain type of individual. Somewhere I’ve still got Courtney’s quote about Kurt written down:
“He needed love more than anyone else I’ve ever met, but he had no way to ask for it.”
I suppose that’s everyone. But I also suppose I’ll never actually know.