For the longest time now, I have been living my life from the outskirts of life-always an observant, but never a participant. I have always felt so separated from everything-as if all were just a dream unfolding before my eyes, and if I were to attempt to reach out towards anything lurking before me, it would fade away from my touch.
Nothing has ever felt real to me-everything in my life has just felt like some sort of temporary sensation that fills me with places, faces, and feelings, yet they all come to pass just as quickly as they came. I try to decipher meaning from them all, yet any sense of definition or purpose slips through my logic of reasoning.
I guess a part of the reason I have always felt such a sense of disconnect from the world stems from the fact that I have always been a tremendous introvert, and a bit of an outsider. Socializing was never an easy feat for me-ever since I was a young child I struggled tremendously, becoming a frequenter of lonely corners and isolated chairs. Watching all of the people before me, as they lived their lives and interacted with one another in a way that seemed just so natural to them.
It was always so fascinating and foreign to me that I have often felt like an individual holding a crystalline Snow Globe in her hands-beholding and marveling all of the activity swirling around inside. A world completely separate from my own. A world that felt so close to my fingertips, yet it would be forever barred off from my touch.
A world where happiness and a sense of meaning are encased in a world separate from my own.
As a constant onlooker in life, loneliness becomes a frequent companion- but it never becomes easier to cope with its harrowing presence. I can never make room for it in its complete pervading form-because my internal desire for companionship and a sense of belonging always gets in its way. It is like a constant, ongoing battle-between the familiar acquaintance of loneliness and my hope to escape it for once.
I rarely seem to become its victor. Loneliness always seems to win out in the end. If I manage to stave it off, it is only temporary, and when it returns-I am thrust back into my corner, left alone again. Back into my isolation. Back to my empty existence.
All I want more than anything is to have a bit of color and companionship to my life. I want to be with a group of people I feel like I deserve to be with and whom remain an active presence in my life. I want to emerge from invisibility and become someone who makes an actual contribution to this world-one that people would actually notice and enjoy having in their lives.
I am sick of being a nothing.
Yet it seems that no matter how hard I try, I am only just clawing up at a destination that is far, far out of my reach. After so many attempts, I am already disappearing, and it seems like nothing can bring me enough sustenance or hope to keep me alive. My pain, combined with the constant feeling of loneliness is taking me away, and eliminating any ray of redemption that may try to peek through.
I am so consumed by the feeling of slipping away that I hardly feel that I am here right now, voicing this plea aloud to you.
Can you hear me? Or have my words already been swallowed up by this cloud of emptiness that is taking me inside it?
It’s funny, really. I am an early-twenty-something who recently graduated college with a degree that emphasized writing- you would think that at this point in my life, I would be the furthest from being lonely, and I would be able to flawlessly compose good writing that would earn me success and praise.
Yet neither one is the case. Neither myself nor my writing seem to hold any impact or meaning in this world. I just don’t see why I should even bother keeping both alive anymore-when they both seem to slip past people’s radars anyway.
8 comments
firstly, congratulations on obtaining your degree, you should be proud of that accomplishment. i am also quite an introvert and prone to feelings of detachment and loneliness. but then when i am among friends i tend to crave being alone again.
i think a psychologist would name what you described as “depersonalization disorder”. ive gone through periods of this, but more often i feel stuck inside my own self. i think it would give you an interesting perspective where writing is concerned. maybe you can look to it more as a strength. the greatest writers are the greatest observers in my mind.
Yes, I hear you.
It is a fact of this worldly life that most people are so self absorbed that they have little or no room for thinking about others, except as it pertains to them. (Businessman is talking with an quantum physicist who tells him that the universe is flashing in and out of existence 14 million times per second. “Ok,” he says. “But what’s in it for me?”)
This is even more true, if you want to connect where things matter. Like needing help, and what you really care about. What and how do you think about life. What does it mean to actually bridge loneliness? These are real conversation enders.
The talks that you are likely to be missing out on are often too superficial to draw interest; the ignorant with the uninformed. There is, it turns out, a reason why writers often resort to solitude in order to calm the mind and focus on their craft.
Still, this does not substitute for genuine meeting on a deep level; there is no substitute for that. It is for this reason that friends are cherished. It is for them that we are willing even to change ourselves for the better.
One suggestion is to endeavor to learn more about yourself; from the inside. All the great religions have small esoteric schools that focus on this. You might consider it.
G.W.
I also have always been introverted, my parents did nothing about it when I was younger, it was getting worse and brought consequences, never got the right deal with introversion. Today I have this loneliness running through my veins, I feel a real connection with anything. The emptiness leads to my intelligence, my health and I feel that lack little to suck my life.
I could have written that, if I were a better writer.
You are doing a great disservice to yourself by downplaying your abilities as a writer. There is a great deal of irony which resides in the last paragraph. Certain personal shortcomings leave us deluded and convinced about our self perceived failings. The reaiity is often different. Depression has a way of distorting our perception of qualities that we possess. These qualities are usually examined by outsiders who are able to reach conclusions about them that run opposite to the conclusions that we form.
You may or may not have poor social skills, that is something which is impossible to objectively determine but do try and give yourself some credit for your Exceptional writing skills. Perhaps this will provide much needed perspective on other misgivings you incorrectly harbor about yourself.
“whatsinaname”
Indeed. Naming theory is an interesting area of… philosophy [ducks].
Digging deeper into why we call things what we call them, and how we decide what name to give a thing… and then further, considering what effects may be caused by choosing to call a thing by one name, rather than another… is something that has intrigued me for a long time.
I guess i’m a bit too exhausted right now, to go into it.
On one hand, a rose is a rose, no matter what you call it. But on the other… if you call it “that stupid stinky red flower with sharp parts i hate so much,” then i suppose that could alter the ways its value might be perceived, as well as influencing what your audience will think, about observing such a thing.
So on one hand, words are powerful and important… but on the other, “they’re just words.” They only have the power allowed by their audience.
I like to call a thing what it is, even if the audience disagrees and then thinks negatively of me, and then decides to only allow my words the power of validating their perception of my lack of credibility.
I was going to comment here earlier, but i ended up deleting it before submitting, and i don’t remember what it was i wanted to say, or why…
Oh, that’s right…
“…with a degree that emphasized writing- you would think that at this point in my life, I would be the furthest from being lonely, and I would be able to flawlessly compose good writing that would earn me success and praise.”
Your expectations were miscalculated. I would not expect someone who has spent extraordinary effort on learning to more skillfully manipulate language, to not be lonely. Being “better at language” is alienating… because most people aren’t. Plus, writers, as was already mentioned above, often require spans of isolation, in order to operate optimally… partly due to what i just mentioned about most people being unskilled at language, but also all the “whiz-bang” “gee-whiz” flashiness and superficiality of modern society. You gotta get away from all that crap, to be able to think clearly and deeply without disruption. So, i usually expect “writers” (or programmers, or any other similar skill set) to more often and intimately experience loneliness, especially since they possess a more intricate level of analytical understanding.
If you want success as a writer, your best bet is probably in the direction of convincing people to buy affiliated products on a smoothly operating, reliable, credible, “authority” website.
Otherwise, you’re taking on the immense pressure to invent and compose “the next harry potter” or something.
You could also just start making a list of “popular” topics that you find interesting enough to motivate you to produce quality content, and then start your own news or op-ed blog. There’s a bunch of ways… but in order to monetize writing, you either need to create appealing intellectual property, or you need to make someone some money with your words, from which you will (should) receive a predetermined share of revenue.
I know how it feels to not feel like you’re able to create anything totally original and unique that you think anyone would find valuable. You probably need a “prompt,” like an event or topic that ignites your passion for word craft.
If you want to write… you gotta have something to say. And in order to have anything relevant to say, you have to care. So find what you care about, and attack it. Maybe try to use your words to correct a problem, or many problems.
You should also probably look into getting a highly tuned ergonomic setup, and configure your systems so that all of the tedious hassle parts are minimized, and so that the system “gets out of your way” and facilitates your process, when the lightning strikes. Meanwhile, try to take care of yourself physically, so that the pressures of “being a writer” won’t wear you down or cause so much discomfort, so easily.
you made an outstanding post.
You are not alone in being cut off from the world. I have always known I don’t belong here. Don’t belong to this world at all. I hate it here. It’s spiritual. I think there are two types of spirits: spirits of this earth and spirits of higher things. Spirits who belong to a higher world cannot accept this lowly existence. It doesn’t feel real at all. We are brains in a vat for all we know. I don’t know what’s going on but I do know that this world is malicious and while it is painful not to be able to participate in life, it’s for the best, that we are repulsed from it. I absolutely cannot get caught up in this life. I have to work myself up to get interested in anything and even then it’s almost never sincere. I don’t like people. Not because there is something wrong with me, but because this world is all wrong.
What you have written is the most eloquent posting I have read on SP. Ever. Period. I stumbled onto this site searching for methods and stayed in hopes of reading something evocative; any words that could move the hardened, cement block that had become my soul. I cared not which direction, even if the movement pushed it off a cliff, but nothing seemed strong enough to budge it even an inch. Yet your writing of herculean strengtj brings to my ears the grumbling noise or a lifeless boulder finally giving way. In your career I am sure you have heard this, but I will say it anyway: you have a remarkable talent.
I understand your detachement and isolation. Truly. But it can be a boon. Like Clever mentioned, it is the mark of an analytical mind. I know that does not diminish the accompanying depression. But you can channel this. Use your art as a refuge. Let it become your escape. Either try to dispel your feelings with a pen in order to leave them on the page or create a world of words that you can reside in instead of the reality you have become disillusioned with. Ultimately that will not be enough. But it can give you some respite. And I can already tell that what you create will be beautiful.