Although I proudly labeled my inhabitance as some flavor of asceticism, I must pump the brakes and admit what a poor imitation it is.
It’s taken me some unguided time and stale currents to reach my point today. Although I could, with some stir of pride, list my lack of online outlets, it’s best not to. Although I could say that, for the most part, I’ve remained unscathed from all of the psychological trap doors, it is still a poor imitation. Still took damage.
Not sure why it took me so long, but by the same stroke I must admit I don’t have any mentors or people who are present. They’re present the way you’re present at the bank teller before you withdraw your funds. The domino knocks down and you hope to get your cash wad, ignore the overdraws and things seems kosher enough to go again without seeing the sign above saying this branch will close in two years time.
But as the bank teller I’m the one installing the polyester glass with the attached mic that grates a little when spoken into. And I signed up for the job: never did I think myself a vagabond banker. On one hand I am quite embarrassed at how much of a monkey I am, but on the other hand I feel like I am at least evolving. On one hand I want to puff my chest and laugh at how I have mostly processed this all by myself; on the other hand I feel as though this is a general expectation of humanity: to clear out your closet at your pace, and you will or you’ll perish anyway.
While I’ve processed some of my psyche I must admit that I’ve given up on connecting with others for some time now. Maybe it was the damage, maybe it was the lack of benefit, maybe it was my stupidity in selection, maybe it was the perceived insignificance in my mental gorge, maybe it was all the above. I’ve effectively given up for three years, but is that wrong? No Longer Human — but is being human worth it? Why not wave my flag and start my nation of one, to have the fortitude to go at it alone? Am I allowed to believe such things, or am I just increasing my difficulties due to my deficiency or inability to tolerate the venom, inability to see benefit?
In group settings, projects or the like there’s an almost sensational trend of indifference that I’ve Stockholm syndrome for — to where I apply it to all of life. The reality is that 80% of the work is done by 20% of the group, and that’s that. And if I’m in the other 80% of the group, I am just praying for some benevolence.
Deep down I’m not sure why anyone in a better position would help me; I could be the change I want to see in the world by helping those in more of a damper than me, but am I just supporting something that shouldn’t happen? The same way we bloat up a population with free food until it can’t sustain itself and we set new records for famine.
It is a poor imitation in either case. There’s no one banking on my success at large, maybe a hope for happiness, a choice of life satisfied. Maybe my great-great-grandparents of yore hoped for more, and oh I’m failing them for sure. Well, let me be poor! Part the gold flames and see the stand-off, between two selves: one that still bothers to connect with people and one that renounces it altogether.