Being Alone
October 2nd, 2024
I had a great week, until I went back to work. I actually like working and writing code.
It's just... socializing with my coworkers is painful. I don't like who I am around others, and so being around others brings me a great pain.
It's not their fault, I just don't like me being positioned so close in proximity. If I could eat lunch alone without any repercussions, I would.
Undiagnosed Autism
If all this time my inability to hold eye contact without blanking out, my need to control my odd choice of words, to be self-aware of my tone of voice so I don't sound sarcastic and condescending, to stop fidgeting and stand still, and most of all, to just be a normal human being: if all these things were something I were fated to be with, rather than a deficiency of the soul, I might be able to fall into a peace.
That my soul wasn't rotten to the core of my own choice and volition, I might be able to finally breathe easy.
I hate myself so much. Everyday I wish I were born a different person.
Acting a Different Human Being Everyday
I'm an actor. I'm good at acting. I try to act well and act happy. I am good at acting, however not during work.
All my life, I think I've alienated people by acting friendly and happy around them. Then, I never reach out again. Why? Because it's work. I don't want to go out of my way to spend time with other people if it just means I'm working to cater to their needs, their wishes, their conversation topics, and their interests.
If human connection were systematic in that way, would you want to? But I have no choice. I cannot carry a conversation otherwise. This is just the way I have to do things to connect with other human beings.
I don't really bond with other people. I can't say that other people know me. I can't say that I know myself either. But, I have genuinely never felt a real human connection with a soul in my life. All of it is an act, and the world's my stage.
All that crap about caring about other people... do I really? Do I really care for other people? I don't think they care for me. And in my life, I've been mistreated this whole time. Why should I care?
I wanted to care. I wanted to help. I wanted to do good things for humanity. I wanted to be that helping hand. But I realize now, and only now, that nobody cares. Nobody cares that I wanted to help. Nobody cares that I wanted to do good. Nobody gives a rat's ass unless you give a rat's assa about them first.
I'm jaded. This world makes me sick. I hate myself, and I hate the world around me. But that's just the way things are, aren't they?
I feel like a teenager having his first phase of rebellion. I feel angsty. I feel frustrated. I feel lonely. I feel depressed and sad. I feel like I need help.
My therapist isn't really helping much either. I think she's just there to judge me. I think she's just there to judge me, some loser male in his twenties who can't figure out how to be a fucking normal human being. It's disgusting how far I've gotten like this. It's just so awful. I hate it.
Should I even go to therapy next session? I don't trust her one bit.
Mom's Words
My mother's words still ring in my head. I haven't physically seen her in months, yet her voice is still clear.
She taught me when I was young that "life sucks." Life is awful. Being alive sucks. And that one day, she hopes that I have kids so I get to feel the awfulness I brought about her life as a child. She would say that day in and day out.
She would say how worthless, how useless, how annoying, and how burdensome I was. She'd hit me, threaten me, yell at me, and demand obedience from me. She controlled my entire life, what I ate, when I ate, when I played games, when I did homework, and when I practiced piano and math. It was a classic asian household.
I will never forget the way I felt during those formative years. I guess that's where this voice is coming from. That I'm trash. That I'm useless, annoying, and don't deserve the life gifted on me.
My mother would beat me, but getting beat is not bad. I don't think getting hit is that bad honestly. The beatings you forget quite easily. The fear, the fear is what you remember. I remember being deathly afraid for my life. I understood what it meant to want to live.
I don't have any frame of reference for what my experiences were like. I'm not sure.
There were many times my mother regretted having us though. And she definitely expressed those beliefs. She's not a bad person, because she loves us in a way that she's sacrificed so much for us. Though, she had wished she had never had us from time to time.
I suppose that's just how parents are. And I suppose that's just the way the world works. Acceptance is key.
A Prick
What do you do if you're a condescending prick? Do you restrain yourself? Do you not do these things?
That's what I tried to do all my life. I am many people's friend, but they are not my friends. It makes me sad to think of it that way, but I see it now. People actually form a human connection with me, but I don't with them. I just find them exhausting, and I never reach out. It is depressing in that way, but it is the truth, is it not?
I don't reach out because I don't find their company enjoyable. Like I said above, I don't find anyone's company enjoyable. One day I want to be able to gather with other people and celebrate something, but I don't think that day will come.
I moved to Silicon Valley in hopes, not of money, but to not be eccentric or the odd one out. Many find their people in high school and if not then then in college. I tried. How laughable. It seems that no matter where I go, somehow, I am the odd one out.
I try my best. I will keep trying my best. But there is only so much I can do. At this point, I think I'm resolved to a life of solitude.
I miss her. I miss her a lot. But I'm just a prick.