This is kind of a botched article from the start. I had planned it about two weeks ago but wound up sending most of my original message to a person or two last night so in order to protect their privacy and honor the integrity of those conversations. Now, in some post-Brechtian introduction to this article, I’m apologizing to you guys, the readers. I was originally hoping to make this a more broad piece, but in order to "keep it fresh," I suppose I'm gonna have to get a little more personal than an article of this nature probably should be...
I’ve alienated a lot of people in my life, primarily myself. I’ve never been a loner, but I do enjoy being alone sometimes (a lot of the time). As an Aquarius, radicalism was predestined for me. As a Crawford male, I’ve had a long history with insecurity that has led me to many actions that weren’t exactly of sober mind. Despite these things, I’ve been fortunate enough to have experienced quite a few intimate friendships in my past. Typically, in my attempts to self-damage and act out against those who make me feel like a lesser man, I’ve circumstantially shaken off quite a few people I hadn’t exactly planned to. This is somewhat of a cliche “open message” to them.
Even though the faucet of endless conversations we’ve had has gone dry long ago, that doesn’t mean that I don’t appreciate the nights they’ve sustained me through. Without them, I wouldn’t be quite here today, at least in the way that I am now. There’s a lyric that’s been running through my mind lately, from Eyedea & Abilities’ album "By the Throat," “There’s no Hell harsher than a memory.” Although that line has haunted me for days, I would rebuff that in saying there is no Heaven loftier.
I could never separate my true self from super-ego, not until accepting that perhaps those memories weren’t as idyllic as I like to see them. Sure, the days spent together were great, but there was also a lot of BS, mostly on my end. In my efforts to hurt myself, I affected other people’s lives as well, but I couldn’t take my focus off the goal to see that perhaps that goal was merely a MacGuffin. (Whew! That got dangerously close to becoming a Christina Aguilera lyric.) I know now that I was incapable of liking someone as much as I hated myself.
The truth is, my writing this is the product of the same narcissism that drove us apart in the first place. Am I writing this to reform and excuse the skin I’ve shed? Or is it because I’m feeling down about myself and it could possibly return my self-image to its former caricature-esque state? Most people attribute narcissism to self-aggrandizing, but I think more narcissists prescribe to the craft of self-belittlement. Ultimately, what I wanted was to cut myself off from others to focus on repairing myself. Well, now I’m better-ish, and still feel alone. Truth is, I’m still the same person I was all that time ago, and I think that’s the problem. The only progress I’ve made could very well be my own selfish brand of altruism. Does it matter if one exercises for health reasons or to get laid? Really, it doesn’t matter, because I haven’t left my bedroom in four years.
