Get your own
 diary at DiaryLand.com! contact me older entries newest entry

2004-01-10 - 11:47 p.m.

Sometimes I cannot stand the desolate world. Sometimes I wonder why it is that I choose to stand alone. Sometimes I cannot stand it, but I am overcome by fear of the possibility that that may change and I would lose myself in it. I am all that I have left. My family comes first. After that I am all I have to depend upon. There may come the day that when I lose myself, I may have to fall back on God. Then again, I may not and choose to perish for fear of even that drastic a change.

I have friends. Some. Few. All else have become acquaintances. Perhaps by my choice, perhaps by fate, perhaps by nothing in particular. It is what it is. I do not believe in destiny, or else all of our futures would be predictable by somebody. I cannot even depend on my friends. Not that they are not dependable, but that I am too...I don't know...something..."non-trusting"?..."independent"?..."foolhardy"? Whatever it is that causes me to live my life as a lonesome person, it is very effective. It has its grip on me and so much so that it forces me not to want to shake myself from its grasp but to keep it enfolded about me like a protective garb.

I have forsaken friends of my past without a second thought. I do not seek them, though they were such important parts of my life when they were here. Few remain. Those who still have the decency to keep in touch with me, my "something" resents, because they force me to acknowledge my past, they remind me of times past, and they become a threat to my..."whatever". I can't stand it. I hate myself because these people have been so good to me.

Certain stories I have read speak of living in solitary (prison and otherwise) and living in one's head and soon thereafter going slowly insane. I know I live in my head but I don't think I am insane yet. I have a job, I go about, I interact, and I have a wonderful outlet in my writings and journals like this. But I crave the isolation, the quiet, the solitude. I know I depend on people but it is a bittersweet relationship. I love people, but I force them from my life.

The other day a beautiful nurse smiled and spoke to me and made my day. The day after, some of the other nurses started teasing me about my being "single" and her being single and that we would be a "perfect" match, etc. I became awkward, said a few words in my defense and quickly changed the subject and was soon high-tailing it from that scene. I don't understand what has happened to me. This is not the first time this has happened. What am I afraid of?

I love people, but not from up close. I used to be the king of hugs. I have not hugged anyone (other than family) for months. I live a Jeckel and Hyde relationship in my mind. I have let my smiles and my laughs be my cover. I go out of my way to be nice, to do good for people so that they will like me and praise me for my goodness. It is not to gain anything. I do not WANT anything. I am not a consumptive person. But each of us has a method of relating to people, something that during our lfietime has worked for us and we revert to it again and again when dealing with people. I have been generally known as that "really nice guy". I don't dislike the appellation but know it is not what is fuelling the fire in my core. Unfortunately I don't know what IS either. Being nice works. I don't demand anything. I go out of my way to help people. I say kind things, compliment people's looks, congratulate, praise them for their work, etc. I'm not sure I mean everything I say, but I am not saying it to be sinister either. But all of it together brings upon me the title of "nice guy". Again, I do not dislike this because the reputation brings with it advantages such as dispelling bad attitudes (the kill them with kindness routine) and making beautiful nurses take notice of you. But it does nothing for me when it comes to tapping sources of fortitude, when the need arises, nor does it cover up my incredibly thin veil of self-confidence or self-esteem, when their fragility is exposed. That is when I escape. That is when I reclude. That is when I run away, hide, or move from place to place, evade people, not call friends back, or choose to stay off of the radar for a while, until I feel it safe to return to my old, tried and tested routine. And it ends up getting me nowhere. I avoid my medical school applications because I am afraid. I avoid emails from old friends because I am afraid. I avoid telephone calls because I am afraid. I avaoid my family bacause I am afraid. I avoid relationships bacause I am afraid. I avoid God because I am afraid.

Afraid. Afraid of what? Change. Criticism. Closeness to anyone. Closeness to anything. I have even begun to minimize my lifestyle, getting rid of things I own, things at home other than essentials because I am afraid. Afraid of attachment.

And yet, not a day goes by that I force myself to be happy. No, myself forces me to be happy. And it is real happiness. Happiness of waking up every morning. Happiness for breathing air. Happiness for the taste of water. Happiness for the drive to work on the Bay Bridge every morning. Happiness when I see the lone, ricketty 1972 Oldsmobile whatever driving down the 101 among all the taxis and SUV's that go to work in San Francisco every morning. Happiness to see the tiny red flower growing from between the cracks of the sidewalk on my urban street, where the junkies had urinated the night before. Happiness for being.

Maybe I am afraid of losing myself, and thus losing this happiness. I don't know. But I know I must move on. Saturday night, 11:50 pm.

-----------------------------------

Only a man who has felt ultimate despair is capable of feeling ultimate bliss.

If God were suddenly condemned to live the life which He has inflicted upon men, He would kill Himself.

--Alexandre Dumas (1802-1870)

previous - next

about me - read my profile! read other Diar
yLand diaries! recommend my diary to a friend! Get
 your own fun + free diary at DiaryLand.com!