Bitter Almonds

It is the moment you care that you start feeling alone.

How very true.

I don’t need to actually let anyone realize that it is hard for me to create those bonds that people are so engrossed on engaging themselves in, like they can’t live without having an abundance of individuals to create their circle of ego-protection—friendship, romantic relationships, acquaintanceship, etc. The fact that I am spending my time filling up this blog with all sorts of nonsense can tell anyone a lot.

Unfortunately, humans are social creatures. They can’t help it. I included.

Detachment. Not the physical kind.

I tend to deviate from having contact with people I barely know, if not at all, unless it is absolutely necessary to interact, like in a classroom setting. I am not anti-social, mind, I just detest the idea of having to don a persona, time and time again, that I am not comfortable with—namely, being all nice and polite and diplomatic. I’d rather not talk at all if I can actually have that choice. Of course I still have to socialize. It has become a strenuous work: arduous, time-consuming, etc. That’s not the only reason, however. Apparently I lack tact, as one of my so-called friends willingly pointed out. I can be a prick sometimes, that I am aware. Most people, those I’d rather not meet, the close-minded platoon of moronic mice, don’t take lightly on me being just me. I can feel their contempt whenever I express my opinion the way I do, or air my thoughts the way I do, or speak the way I do, or roll my eyes the way I do. For them, it’s unacceptable. But it’s not like I don’t show respect. They just don’t see it. You can’t please everyone—I’m not trying.

I’m not complaining, it just sounds like it. Even I have found my own group of people which I can relate with. Them, who I can really call my friends without having to explain the meaning of the word; them, who are the reason why I wrote this, with the heading a quote from a lecture I attended just a while ago. They are living up to my expectations. I like them. They’re not normal—meant that as a compliment—and somehow I see part of myself existing in each of them; every time I am with them is like looking into the mirror first thing in the morning and for the first time actually liking what you see. I have fun, unbelievable really, when I am with them (well sometimes).  And now, it has come to my attention (or I simply did not want to notice at first) that I truly care for them. I, who did not want anything to do with a close-knitted cluster; I, who initially did not need any sort of companionship; and I, who would not write any remotely mushy stuff like this (and all I can manage). And with that, I started feeling alone. I find myself looking for them whenever I enter the vicinity of that place where we usually hang out. I’m starting to feel disappointment when they’re nowhere to be found, or if they leave early, or if they’re someplace near but have more important things to attend to. I feel happy for them, I feel sad for them. I’m starting to want their company every day, and if possible, forever. Suddenly, any other person not them shrinks in comparison, like these people are mere termites and cockroaches and my friends are the only real ones worth talking to; they are the only ones worth laughing with. For this, I want to blame them, curse them, murder them really, really, really much, and at the same time give my utmost gratitude.

Of course...

They don’t have to know. They don’t have to. They don’t.

There are a lot of stuff I would like to add, but I am to hinder myself if I don’t want myself progressing further into this quicksand of madness. I lack sleep. This won’t happen again. Tomorrow, when I look at this post, I will laugh. I will laugh my heart out. I will laugh like it’s already December 21^st. And then I will be ashamed of myself for being able to come up with this shit. I will deny its existence. I will abandon my attachment to this piece. I will forget this day. Surely. I will. In time.

Apology is warranted.