Excerpt on Being Alone

    I’ve think that I’ve had enough friends that say, “Distract yourself. Don’t try to be with other people until you find yourself.” And yes, I’ve done it and I’ve followed it. I’ve found myself trying to isolate myself because I guess the smart thing to do is “find yourself” or “don’t be with other people.” But I don’t think it helps. By forcing yourself into an unnatural state of isolation makes people believe that being isolated is the only normal thing to do. Because only by being by yourself for so long or forcing yourself not to be with other people, is forcing yourself to think that is the only way. To believe that finding yourself is the normality is believing that letting your emotions reign free is not. I’ve been by myself for over a year now and I think I’ve “found myself.” I found out that no matter how long I’m by myself, I prefer not to be. And by the time I’ve forced myself to believe it’s better to be by myself, I’ve received a response that I’m not ready to be in a relationship, which I don’t believe anyone has the authoritative judgement on such matters. I’ve been by myself and I learned a lot. I know that one gets over hurt. I know I can live without other people and I learned I can continue on that way. But, life is dull when you don’t have someone to share it with. Life is almost selfish and pointless by yourself. I know that loneliness urges a lot of desires that we avoid in our normal, sane lives. I understand that in a state of loneliness, people are not rational. But, I enjoy the idea that loneliness dares us to do things that we were afraid of doing so in our rational minds. Because when people are lonely, they feel that all their rights have been stripped from them. They feel as if they’ve been violated in every way possible. By daring ourselves, we don’t feel that we have anything left to lose.


    if you have interests with my real life

    I grew up having ambivalent feelings towards my father. Along the way I swore every time I locked myself in my room after a harsh scolding, I would never grow up being like him. I would strive to be the complete opposite. But lately, I brought up the critical point of having a heart. What does it mean to have a heart anyway? Maybe to some perspective, it was the same as asking, “How good do you have to be to be considered as a good person?” I realized that perhaps I had no heart after all. Not literally, of course. I was so cold and harsh to anything that didn’t directly revolve around my life. It was cruel, I admit. I tried to bring myself to be a compassionate being among others, but I could not find an ounce of affection I had to spare. I tried to trace back to my roots and contemplated for the matter if I was always so cold hearted or had something triggered this? I tried to remember back when I had a heart. An earlier time, I suppose. Even after my father, I knew I still had a heart. I was only a child. I rationalized to believe that it was only society that had such a negative impact on me. They were the ones who had constantly put me down with such a cold shoulder. And maybe then, it was then when I started to lose faith in myself.My innocence and purity left. I was no longer a praised child, I became a mediocre adult. Growing up. Now I just scoff at that thought. I remember that time when I was young, I couldn’t help but to wish I was an adult. Every time I look into a mirror, I realize all the priorities I put ahead in my life were not priorities after all. Most of all, I see my father reflected on the other side. All these harsh things my father said, somehow wove beautifully with my veins and he and I were one. It was something I absolutely despised as a child and admittance made me despise myself. Growing up. It was my undoing.

    Maybe we were just so young and frivolous we didn’t know what we were getting ourselves into. Naive enough to believe that having that cut rock slip on my finger meant we were so in love. Perhaps at some point we truly were. Every time I looked down at that stone I asked myself, “Where did that time go? We were star crossed lovers, of course.” But, I was only seventeen and I swore we were ready for each other. I’d like to believe now is just some quarter life crisis because back then, a year felt like forever. Now, being in love with someone I’d love to hate is what forever truly feels like.

    I have these dreams and they are real. I smell you and I feel you. You’re something worth wanting. I want you and you want me. It depresses me. I don’t remember a time when when we were one. I don’t remember your smile and I don’t remember the way your face looks. I don’t remember the way we held hands and I don’t remember your voice. These dreams feel real, and sometimes I wish they were. I wake up and I forget everything. You aren’t here anymore but I can still feel you. You are here.

    If I were famous, I’d say something like “Never forget the people that you met before you were famous. They were the ones that made you who you are and where you were. Even the people that you swore you hate. The people who thought loved you were the ones that supported you and was your backbone. That no matter what happened, they were there so you could fall back on them. And give your best thanks to the ones you hated. They were your motivation. They were the reason to become who you are right now. And about hate, hate is a sensitive topic. I don’t believe that you hate anyone. You hate the people you want to love because they give you the very reason that you should not love them. All they really want is someone to prove to them that they shouldn’t be loved but at the very moment yearn for the very feeling of being loved. To love and be loved. In life, we meet thousands of people. We pass millions of faces each day and the thing that you don’t realize is that you influence everyone you meet, or vice versa, even in the smallest way. Something small you do can be the highlight of someones day, or even the start to an epiphany. You don’t know what goes on in someone’s mind. And with the influence, perhaps you become a better person. Everyone becomes a better person over time. We learn about love, life, and death. Greed, hope and faith. You learn this from the people you meet. I wouldn’t act like I was better than them because I know that they were the ones who bettered me.” 

    And sometimes old things fall apart so new things can fall together. That was the philosophy of life. That maybe, for the best, we found out on our own without the help of others. That from the outside, you begin to see things that are not as evident as it is inside. If it was meant to be, then simply, it would work out. And if it wasn’t, then in time it would fall apart on its own. That was the philosophy.

    And some days I still have those urges to call you up and figure out how you’re doing and it never goes away.  But I all have now are these faded memories and old pictures and sometimes I wish I cared less or you gave a damn more.

    My father was never an alcoholic and my father never abused me. That’s two truths and a lie. I was the youngest of three and I grew up on a farm north of New York and grew up to be an illiterate, but multicultural bastard. I was neglected by everyone who I thought ever cared about me because success came from the intelligent and I was not the brightest bulb of the bunch. And with the neglect came the alcohol, the prohibition, the prostitution, the wealth and the attraction for men who gave me the slightest interest. I traded my skin for cheap sex and tattoos and saw the world as far as my feet could take me, as far as the yachts could sail the seven seas and as far as the rockets could fly me out to see galaxies unknown. Of course it was just a day’s paycheck for the men in the black suits with their Fendi glasses and Prada shoes. I’ve done a million things in my life that my vivid imagination could never perceive, but the one thing I’ve never done was tell the truth. 

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