Self-importance

Some people are really fond of saying "If something is really important enough to you, you'll find a way to make it happen".

I know exactly how important it is. I lay awake at night thinking of the things that are important to me.

I don't think they are capable of understanding that I don't feel I am important enough.

Consent

When you choose to scale a mountain, you never ask how the mountain feels about it.
When you eat a sandwich, you never ask the bread or meat for its consent.
When you run a race, you never ask the finish line (or anyone else) if you can cross it.
When you fly in an aeroplane, you never ask gravity if it consents to being defied.
When you play an instrument, you never ask the instrument if it wants to be played.
When you watch TV, you never ask the TV before turning it on.
When you sleep, you never ask your bed if it is ready to be slept in.

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But what about other people?
What about the only people that matter to me?
What about me?

How do they feel?
How will I feel if they do not feel as I feel? What right do I have to their feelings?
What possible justification can I give that would convince them to grant me their consent, even once?

To achieve the trust of fellow human being is so much more difficult than to conquer a goal. Because how they feel about it is so intrinsically important.

Attachment

I remember when I was a child, someone somewhere got me a Tamagotchi electronic pet.
I remember wanting to take care of it.
I remember that my aunt saw it and threw it away calling it "a devilish influence".
I remember crying.

I remember my brother deleting my entire music collection of about fifty songs in the late 90s. He will never appreciate how bad that hurt me.

I remember feeling the shock in my chest when I found out that Ellie died in 2013, even though I barely knew her.
She was a wonderful person.

I remember nearly getting my friend and I killed while taking an unauthorized U-turn on a major highway in Goa.

I remember Chenoa hugging me hard in 2015 and me wishing she would never let go.

I remember first seeing Hemangi when I arrived in Mumbai and subconsciously praying to see her again even though I don't pray.

I remember, I remember.

I remember, when I was growing up, never feeling comfortable sleeping unless I was holding on to at least two, maybe three, more pillows than I actually needed.

I wish I could forget.
I wish I could remember what I've already forgotten.

But most of all -

I wish ... I wish I know how to not care.

Just ... The Worst

Perspective is the most terrible curse of sentience.

Women's Day

For my birthday ...

Give me a chance to make you happy.

A Rock And A Hard Place

I had dinner with her.

The pain resumes in my chest yet again. I should never have even suggested a meal; to think I could deal with my malformed emotions is but a fevered madman's dream.

And I would die inside if I were to lose her friendship. But, to me, how could she ever remain a friend?

I wish we had never met. Would she agree?

Genuine Happiness

Why is it that all the things that make me feel less like dying involve making women feel more alive?

And why do I have to justify it?

Connection

If you read this, it's already too late. You're trapped in the same cruel simulation that drives all of our lives.

Why do I even bother? It's not like I've got a chance ... she said so herself. With everything she represents, how could I even hope to compete for her attention?

I believe what people tell me. That's what children are wired to do, after all, aren't they? Wired to learn and accept what they are told to be true.
You have to be taught to think constructively. You have to be taught to question, or at least to question with purpose.

Nobody taught me to think the thoughts that humans need to succeed. And yet I am shamed for my inability.

Without those thoughts, I am unworthy, incomplete, unfulfilled, unloved, and any number of other adjectives.

Even teddy bears need hugs, or so I've tried telling myself. The truth will set you free ... free from everything but the truth.

Learning Curve

Honestly, there are so many truths that people simply cannot face for the sake of their own sanity.

Look up the case of Genie, the girl who resonates within my thoughts every so often. She and I aren't so different ... I mean, of course we are different people, but it's worth highlighting the occasional metaphorical parallels I seem to notice.

God, I feel sick even thinking to compare my life to hers. It's honestly laughable how much our privilege shows in thoughts like those.

The first truth: that people can be so depraved as to let this happen. But the Holocaust, Armenian genocide, Trail of Tears, Rwandan genocide, Unit 731, the Fritzl case, comfort women - and innumerable other examples - more than suffice to demonstrate what our lizard-brains are capable of ignoring and/or rationalizing.

But that's not it ... it's not exactly it, is it?

No, she was effectively raised in a box, and it hurts to say that, in a metaphorical sense, so was I. Not the literal box she was raised in, no. And certainly not with the malicious intent that was evident in her case.
But intent really matter (answer: it does, if barely) when the results are so crushing?

A box is a set of limitations.
They exist whether self-imposed or externally begotten. And it's an interesting thought experiment: who is the true explorer - 1) one who ventures but does not realize that the box exists, or 2) one who is aware of the box's existence and yet ventures anyway?
I lie, of course, in that hard to accept third category: I neither explored my limitations, nor did I realize there was a box to explore and test the limitations of.

Did Genie ever truly learn that the physical world outside was real? I don't know. And we will surely never know, ourselves. But whatever her perception, could you judge her for it, in good faith?

No, I don't know, I'm rambling. But the reason her case is brought up is something so vital, so fundamental to our development that we overlook it completely: the curvature of our learning ability. No, there no such thing as "it's never too late" ... because in order to learn new things, one must first learn how to learn. Much, much more than the innate learning ability of a baby - the ability to discriminate and correlate the otherwise overwhelming vastness of our environments.

The fact that I have the presence of mind to try to analyze my situation and draw conclusions (however misinformed) is so humbling and depressing - would Genie have been able to do the same at all?

Look - I really don't know what I'm trying to say here. Perhaps I've lost the ability to maintain a coherent train of thought?

No, scratch that ... I remember now. The fact that there are certain things that MUST be learned during a critical period in a person's development, or else these are skills that will be unattainable within a reasonable framework.

I missed out on social development in a relatively small way in relation to Genie, but in a relatively big way in relation to my peers. I'm working to fix myself but I hate myself enough that my progress will forever be crippled.

Yes, it's never too late to start.
But there is a point at which it will be too late to finish.
And I am not so strong of a person that I could keep fighting on my own.

Inquiry

I've always felt that I ask people too many questions sometimes, or perhaps speak patronizingly.

Multiple people have assured me that this is not the case, but how do I know they're not just saying what they think I want to hear? Such is the insidiousness of self-esteem.

One thing people rarely consider is that perhaps I'm not asking the questions for their sake, but for my own.

Transformation

It may be worth noting that, for what feels like the first time in my life, I had a win this past Sunday (26th August 2018). You may be wondering why I would want to be so specific on the date... well, isn't that how you keep track of personal milestones?

I can already hear certain guys in my life if I were to tell them... "what a softie", "you gotta take what you want", "think about yourself, bro".

I made the night about her, and I am so profoundly glad that I did. I'm sure she feels the same, too. Not bad for a first time, especially in 28 years. It's never particularly bothered me that I am a virgin, because sex never is or was my goal. So it doesn't surprise me that at the conclusion of my experience I am still *technically* a virgin, and proud of it.

It's experiences like these that make life worth living. Now I just need to get a life.

On a related, abstract note, this is a special case of the general notion that focusing on the equality of the sexes, and the well-being of women in particular (due to the many centuries of female disenfranchisement), is actually better for everyone in the long run.

Spiral

It just slowly gets more difficult.

A self-sustaining reaction can never exist without certain prerequisites; if the conditions are not fulfilled, everything fizzles.

I've never been one to try to defy the laws of nature. And if I was ever lucky enough for the conditions to be right, I was too ignorant to know.

Because every human is always born with all the knowledge they need, clearly.

Epiphany

The only thing standing in the way of my dreams is the fact that the person having those dreams is me.

Downside

I wish I could ignore the women I see as effortlessly as my brain forgets people's names who have introduced themselves to me three times over.

How honest is too honest? How do people not be honest and still call themselves people? Or is it human to be dishonest?

Why, why, why. I never drank alcohol, I never smoked or anything else traditionally questionable. I know how all the damned anti-drug PSAs always say "Just say no" ... how do you refuse something you've never been offered? I never explicitly said no, so am I secretly a druggie?

Each day is a constant reminder that I hate going alone.
Come out for a smoke? I don't smoke.
Come out for a drink? I don't drink.
Come out for the game? I don't follow games.
Come out for the band? I don't have money for the ticket.
Come out for church? Just ... no.

Come out? ... I don't.

Do I want to?
Do you want me to? Really?
Self-esteem is trickier than Loki ever could hope to be.

Fuck, even Jim Carrey's dumbass character in Yes Man had friends who he was comfortable enough to say no to and yet who dragged him along. No doubt Zooey Deschanel helped, I'm guessing ...

Existence is a constant lie. I tell these people I have a plan when I can barely see past the next day - not for lack of trying!

Who are you, to me?

Want vs Need

I don't want to be needed.
I highly doubt anybody truly wants that.

I need to be wanted.
Tell me you disagree.