- What did it feel like? It felt like being hungry, I suppose, in a place where being hungry is shameful, and where one has no money and everyone else is full. It felt, at least sometimes, difficult and embarrassing and important to conceal.
This piece, and this line especially, really stuck me. Perhaps because I've been in such a tumultuous state of mind lately or perhaps because I have been circling around an idea a friend put in my head regarding satisfaction and hunger. Just like a huge, amazing dinner, we can feast on everything we ever wanted and, in that moment, we can enjoy and be satisfied. But, the next morning, we still wake up hungry.
I consider myself lonely. It has made me depressed, sad, reclusive, and aggressive when in a social setting. Growing up hasn't been easy, but I make the best of it and adapt. My depression is temporary (I hope, but at times it doesn't seem so). I've spent my free time using various substances to help me get through this bullshit. For once in a long time... I've gone for a few consecutive weeks sober -- as in not under the influence of something. Before that, it was a daily thing; to use. I've since then sought out help from a professional, and I think talking to her seems to be working a little bit. It gives me a sense of normalcy and routine visiting her. I've got a lot of issues, and I'm still not sure if I trust her 100%. I am not really a social person -- people I get to know don't meet the high criteria I set for them to be anything more than an acquaintance. My therapist suggests that I force myself to make small talk and get to know people. Anyone! Usually, I fake my social interactions. That only masks who I am to others, but doesn't seem to help me at all. To me it seems like a lot of work. Mentally taxing. My job isn't very social. I work mostly alone with one supervisor and very few opportunities for much needed social interaction. People that I meet I put them in some kind of tier. Those whom I deem to be less intelligent I tend to use for my benefit. And those who seem interesting and intelligent and worthwhile, I make an effort to get to know them, but I get the feeling maybe I smother them too much. Realizing this about myself pushes me further away from people, which certainly doesn't help the situation. I'm trying... I really am. I'd like to be a better person that can functionally contribute.
No, but you want to be, like the author regretting the passing of abandoned warehouses full of heroin and AIDS. You yearn for the beautiful ruin that is always so much more pleasant in retrospect. You desire the pallor and waifish gauntness of Dumas' Camille but forget the hacking, blood-soaked cough. Loneliness is not the evocative language of a distrusting barista. It's calling up your ex-roommate's ex-girlfriend because she's the only one you know in town and you're so goddamn alone you'll take anyone. It's opening a care package intended for a former resident and keeping the stuffed easter bunny you find inside but justifying it because that bitch skipped out on $400 in utility bills that mean you have no heat. It's walking a mile to the computer lab so you can have conversations with strangers on Usenet because your classes are full of Koreans and Nigerians who wouldn't study with you even if they spoke your language because you're the wrong color. I've been lonely. It's bullshit. You don't invoke Darger to give your social awkwardness street cred.
I was wondering what was so enigmatic about a YouTube video but I figured I'd let it pass. Anyway, try and check it out when you have time. Dr Dog might not be to your taste at all but I'm quite fond of them. - I reintroduce old lovers to them when we start talking again, completely forgetting how I've already raved. That should say a thing.