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If I could define this pervasive sensation right now, I think I would have to go with 'broken'.
Yes, I feel broken, lacking better words.
This particular kind of broken stems from feeling inutterably lonely. Not the kind of lonely of 'maybe if I go drop-in on some friends or go hang out in a crowd I'll feel better' variety. The kind that is 'the back side of my head and other side of my heart is missing' kind of lonely. That kind of... empty.
I am left with a sense that I can't gain any intrinsic pleasure from just doing things that I enjoy, like going for ice cream, or seeing a movie, or even just reading. I don't have That Someone to share them with, and that... that lack, leaves me feeling flat and listless, enervated.
Now I understand the pull of some addictions: it gives something which glosses over the scar tissue, that temporarily plugs the drain-hole, that numbs the mind and deadens the heart, for a while. The blissful release lasts all too briefly, necessitating another dose, another indulgence, another relapse.
I admit that my isolation is voluntary. I don't want Someone Else until I really get a handle on Just Me, someone I've never really seen clearly. Frankly, I don't think I could respond clearly if you pointed a finger at me and point-blank asked 'Who are you?' Not at all. I don't know if that just concerns me or if it completely frightens me.
And sometimes I wonder how I did get to be the person I am, how I got here, without knowing anything of my self. (If I were feeling snarky, I'd say this makes me more self-aware than about 95% of the human race, but I never said I was human...)
(And I apologize if some of this sounds like angst, it isn't. I'm left feeling far more perplexed than angsty. Even if some of you could say that my emotional intelligence is finally catching up to my mental and social capabilities.)
Yes, I feel broken, lacking better words.
This particular kind of broken stems from feeling inutterably lonely. Not the kind of lonely of 'maybe if I go drop-in on some friends or go hang out in a crowd I'll feel better' variety. The kind that is 'the back side of my head and other side of my heart is missing' kind of lonely. That kind of... empty.
I am left with a sense that I can't gain any intrinsic pleasure from just doing things that I enjoy, like going for ice cream, or seeing a movie, or even just reading. I don't have That Someone to share them with, and that... that lack, leaves me feeling flat and listless, enervated.
Now I understand the pull of some addictions: it gives something which glosses over the scar tissue, that temporarily plugs the drain-hole, that numbs the mind and deadens the heart, for a while. The blissful release lasts all too briefly, necessitating another dose, another indulgence, another relapse.
I admit that my isolation is voluntary. I don't want Someone Else until I really get a handle on Just Me, someone I've never really seen clearly. Frankly, I don't think I could respond clearly if you pointed a finger at me and point-blank asked 'Who are you?' Not at all. I don't know if that just concerns me or if it completely frightens me.
And sometimes I wonder how I did get to be the person I am, how I got here, without knowing anything of my self. (If I were feeling snarky, I'd say this makes me more self-aware than about 95% of the human race, but I never said I was human...)
(And I apologize if some of this sounds like angst, it isn't. I'm left feeling far more perplexed than angsty. Even if some of you could say that my emotional intelligence is finally catching up to my mental and social capabilities.)
