What am I doing here?

And by “here” I mean in this world. In this time. Perhaps I was born in the wrong era. Although I am sure there were assholes even back in the 50’s. I don’t have a thick skin. For a long time I tried to convince myself that I did but the simple truth is that I don’t. I feel too damn much. I am overly empathetic. I let the world eat away at me. I climb into my bed at the end of the day feeling exhausted by human interaction. I bond with people who ultimately let me down. I attract narcissists of all shapes and sizes. I get along best with type A personalities even though in the end they leave me reeling with the frustrating realization that I will never be able to understand them. Or understand why it is people do the things they do at all. I can say that people act the way they do because of past trauma. That they’ve not come to terms with their life, they’ve not overcome the hardships life has thrown at them. I can say it’s because they haven’t accepted themselves for who they are, aren’t comfortable with themselves. Perhaps they lack the ability to self reflect. But that just makes me sad. All of these excuses I make for people who treat others like garbage don’t make me feel better. They just make me feel hollow.

What am I doing in this world?

The keyboard, the paper and pen, those are the things that keep me tethered to myself. Getting my thoughts out onto paper, or typing them out on a screen makes me feel like feeling these things is okay. The mind is a tricky place. It’s full of jumbled emotions and confusion. Everything spins around and around making the perfect storm of self doubt and questioning. I belong in a cabin somewhere. Somewhere beautiful and serene. Somewhere decently far from people, but close enough that I can get my monthly need for human interaction fulfilled at my desire. All I want is this cabin. I just need internet, a Netflix subscription and a laptop. Perhaps a type writer if I really want to get into it. I’d write, and write some more. I’d connect with myself. I feel connected to myself every day at the moment. But the world and it’s assholes seem to always be in the way for that self connection to stick. I need quiet. I need peace.

Or maybe I just need some damn whiskey.

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