Do you think initiating conversations with, for all intensive purposes, strangers is a healthy way to develop perspective or insights even in the subtlest forms? Executed by hopes of unbiased views or preconceived notions. With desire for human connection in its minimalist form. Social proprietary norms have never been a strong point or understanding of mine. Living on the brink of society whilst being bound in it’s existence. Always alone, the fly on the wall, in a crowd amongst peers. Understanding how to interact appropriately is a mute point. Crippling anxiety and depression imprison my will to expand the horizons and live amongst the world and its constituents. Hidden in the shadows behind the screen, like a stalker, living vicariously through the acquired acquaintances. Almost like a sociology student analyzing and collecting data. More times then not I felt as a child that maybe I wasn’t from this earth and that I was meant for a greater purpose. As I’ve grown I feel as though I may have found a purpose but not one of grandeur but in fact suiting for my lack of ability to connect. It’s not that I don’t try or that I am cold and disconnected, but more or less I feel everything. Visioning all perspectives while absorbing the pain of others to bleed for their battles in hopes to see their light shine. For this too, I lock myself behind four walls of solitude in hopes to silence the voices and numb the pain. Often the walls close around me and I feel overwhelming sense of suffocation. It’s quite maddening, but a fragile heart and psyche should be guarded in order to rebuild. Right? I just don’t even know anymore. A warrior in the daily battle of fight or flight. The cancerous yearning to flee to the forest and live amongst nature in peace of simplicity and silence. The practicality overtakes and smothers the ambition just enough to keep the daily grind in play, knowing it’s what has to be done to succeed in this life or at least for the moment. The sirens song beckoning will forever haunt. I feel so broken and beaten. Constantly repeating question of “why do we continue this life?” playing like a broken record. The knowing you have to carry on makes the feeling worse. I can’t explain the internal battles that ensue any more accurately. Is happiness real? Are the fleeting moments of contentment the same as happiness? I can never tell. I’ve been held an emotional hostage by others for too long. Being told my thought and feelings aren’t real and I need to just BE positive has obliterated my understanding of my own self. Is this real? Am I real or just a marionette dancing by the manipulation by others will? I find myself in my four walls, making lists of what I “know” about myself. What I like. What I enjoy. What I want to be. How I envision my life. This seems like such a sad and ridiculous practice but I’ve been lost for so long I don’t know who I am. At least solitude has brought me the understanding of all this where before I was just floating through life to the beat of others drums. The more I type this the more I contemplate my original question. Is this an appropriate use of someone else’s attention by dumping bewilderment into their lap? Can it be viewed as a way to initiate complex and deeper conversation? A mental intimacy only shared with the chosen conversationalist? Is it merely presenting as a cry for help, because I promise that is not what I mean to do. I honestly don’t know what my intentions were initially as I vomited the waste of my mental fragments all over the screen. I guess solitude can present either in madness or deep understanding. It’s all about perspective I guess but isn’t that everything in life?
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