I’ve noticed, and this is a fairly recent observation, that some people don’t know how to be alone. They have no idea what to do when they’re by themselves. Given that being alone is my default setting, I can pick up on the little things that signal someone isn’t comfortable without people around. You know, the constant looking around, the sad eyes, the shrinking of posture, etc. It’s hard to notice, and half the time I miss it. But whenever I do see it, I’m glad I spend so much time by myself as to not do the same.
Other times, not so much. Being an introvert, being a quiet person, being bad with people--all of these things have their perks and their frustrating limitations. I can handle being by myself, not speaking to anyone for extended periods of time. That leaves available space for thinking and reflection, and for writing and reading. But, you know, it also cuts me off from the outside world and shoves all of that existential loneliness your parents have down my throat.
I’ve come to numerous conclusions about the state of things over the years, and it usually boils down to: I’m a nice distraction, but nothing worth pursuing seriously. I’m erratic, weird, hard to handle, distant, moody, arrogant, petty, irritable, angry, miserable, difficult to understand, uninteresting and far too self-deprecating. These are not qualities of a good friend. These are qualities of your racist uncle who ruins Thanksgiving. While I’m not racist (I do commit microaggressions on accident a lot), I’m certainly nobody’s favorite relative.
But hating yourself and having other people hate you are two entirely different kinds of beast. I’m my own worst bully, and having other people insult you just adds to that fire. Anything you say negatively against me, I can add to my overall image of myself and construct this wicker man of self esteem. Imagine said wicker man, a giant wooden statue, standing in a field. Now, imagine dousing it in low self esteem gasoline and experiencing this interaction:
“There’s nothing good about me.”
“Well, if you keep saying that, yeah, there isn’t anything.”
“You actually think that?”
“Yeah. Dude, you keep talking down about yourself. It gets hard to lift you up after a while.”
And the wicker man burns!
It’s unreasonable, stupid, and defies emotional logic, but it burns just the same.
