I've kept myself very busy and kept this feeling at bay, but it's got me now. Weekends are the worst because there's no work and the gym closes early. On a weekday, I work till 5pm, gym till 8 or later, go home to eat, read, watch a movie, or go to bed. On the weekend, the gym closes at 6pm, so I've got hours ahead of me where there's nobody.
Just think about that. Or think back to being in that situation. I've got no connection to anybody out here. I'm little more than a blip to anybody within a thousand miles of here. At the very best, I'm a polite customer. At worst, I'm simply nothing. Nobody's angry with me, nobody's out to get me, I just don't register. People generally don't give it enough consideration to think that I'm even a fellow human being.
I'm not even a void. A void would be something. I'm not even that.
I was thinking of it on the way home, and I realized that if I died, nobody would know till Monday at the soonest.¹
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| Self portrait. |
Oh, that's worth a digression. Want disconnected? How about living in my foul-smelling house with foul people, of which the English speakers have far more opinion and entitlement than education or interesting things to say. They also have black teeth.
I came home and watched, of all things, Rocky Balboa (or Rocky 6 for those of us counting). Then I tried the bar close to home. Some kind of birthday party was going on. The bartender was impressed with my politeness (and who can blame her, I'm good at saying please and am articulate and clear in the worst of times), but that doesn't count for much. Bartenders tend to be immune to patrons. But seriously, a birthday party. What terrible luck. It's a party with lots of people connected to each other, with no interest in the gay-looking dude with the bourbon.
Simply put, I didn't have anything they needed. So I left. After politely asking to close out my tab.
So: at home, there's no relationship. I do my level best to avoid a relationship with these recessively traited meatbags. At work, they're already looking to replace me, which is understandable since I gave my notice Friday. Out in the world, I've got nothing the world wants.
I'm surprised I held on this long.
I can feel I'm wrapping myself around myself. I'm getting smaller and tougher and armoring myself against the world. It doesn't want me? I don't need it. I've got my obscure movies nobody cares about. My unpopular music nobody cares about. My hard science fiction that nobody's read.
Huh: I'm a hipster. No wonder they're so goddamn miserable to be around.
Thing is, it's not like I can give up. What would giving up mean, anyhow? No, I have to keep on. Intellectually, I know this will end some day. Besides, the very core of me is something that simply keeps going. I'll keep going to the gym. Hell, the gym is the best thing for a mood like this one. It's punishingly painful and exhausting in the short term, and in the long term, I'm healthier and stronger.
Keep your insepid, clichéd comments to yourself. I know them all: it'll pass (I already said that), I love you (you're not here), be strong (I already said that), I'm proud of you (you're not here), whatever. This is my site, my outlet, and you can't say anything that I don't know or that'll make a difference.
I absolutely don't mean that in a vindictive kind of way, and I'm actually kind of sorry for being offensive, but it's the truth. Your comments are worthless here. As a matter of fact, I've closed comments for this post.
On the plus side(?), you might possibly now feel a tiny portion of what's defining me right now: useless and unnecessary.
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1: This isn't a threat, a cry for help, or melodrama. I'm not going to kill myself or put myself in a position where terminal harm may befall me. I'm using it strictly as a device to illustrate my un-connectedness to anything.
