recluse

i suppose i have the tendency to become a recluse.
going out and doing things with people doesn't hold much interest for me anymore. i trust almost nothing and my misgiving get the better of me always. I'm fully aware. but it's a lot easier to just stay by myself at home, doing things around the house than to go out and have to interact with people who just don't get it sometimes. all the time, in fact.

it is really something that comes with age? i don't know. I was never one to be the social butterfly. Although i will admit perhaps that was me when i was younger. Butterfly-ing from flower to flower in search of meaning. but at the end of the day, i always went home lonely and disappointed. as though there was just something about this world that left me just a tad out of place. i'm always the one that just a little too quiet, just a little too talkative, just a little too friendly, a little too unfriendly, a little too invested, a little too bored....just always a little bit of everything else everyone else is not.

it's just not a way i can live my life by. the chaos, the crowds, the mess, the expectations... i would turn down even the closest of friends if they'd rather go out then head over to our homes for a stay-in heart-to-heart, where the only expectation there is, is to bring your most honest and open self and have a field day over a bottle of wine.

people who are constantly in search of other people tend to bring up very negative feelings in me. and  i struggle to accept the things that i cannot change. or Understand, for the matter. if i cannot accept that, i am fully aware that the fault lies in nobody but me, in not being open minded enough to accept without resistance.

but i struggle. hell i struggle so hard, with trying to understand what it is about the human soul that constantly craves the connection to another. are we just that desperate to escape our own inner hells that we actively sought out the hells of others thinking that at the end of the day, the blame isn't ours? the other parties is always more fucked up than we are isn't it? or is it really as plato says. that our souls were really truly created with four arms and legs with a head with two faces, spilt apart and forever condemned to spend our lives in search of our other half.

what is it about people that they would rather concern themselves with other people than to delve within themselves. this world would be a place a lot easier to manoeuvre if everybody understood that we all kinda face the same struggles, and judging would be something that didn't even exist.

perhaps, what I'm really afraid of is to be judged, as much as i always say that i don't really care. sure, it's easy to say that i don't care about the people I'm never gonna see again and that don't even know my name, but what about the people that do? the people that barely brush the surface of my skin. what do they judge of me when they see me? Me with all my quirks. Me someone not easy to understand, at times not even to myself. even that on its own is such an understatement.

... ... i dunno what to say.
i hate the world, honestly.
i hate it.
i think its kinda funny how i say this with no anger at all.
Im not angry at the world for being such a difficult place. i just hate it.
i just know enough, seen enough, felt enough to hate everything about it.
this world, with all its sorrow, all its pain, all its indifference and complications.
i don't want that.
My only little piece of heaven is Zombie.
but even she bites me sometimes.

the way I'm so guarded. the way i never let anyone in. it's not right, i know it. and i hate myself each time I'm reminded by it. lately, it seems that I've been having a lot of reminding about just how guarded i am. "the courage to be seen, the willingness to be hurt..." yeah, more like i'm needing the courage to follow the advice i know full well i should be taking. i wish i wasn't so closed-off. there's nobody that hates it more than myself. i know with FULL Clarity the number of potentially beautifully great friendships i have put to bed just because i refuse to let my walls down.

but oh the frustration! try as i may, i just cannot find a reason enough to open up. there's no reason good enough for me, none that i can accept. and what for? i am simply not that naive. but what can i do. my brutal cynicism and fatal mistrust of human sincerity, of everything and everyone, is going to kill me one day, I'm sure of it. i struggle with this, perhaps my biggest flaw.

and it hurts my heart.
it hurts me.