Hey
I'm writing out of desperation at this point. I have to write. If I don't, well, I won't have written, and we can't have that, now, can we? Life gets more complex by the minute, and I can't put off analysis any longer. I haven't written anything at all since my last post, and there's something building, and it's pain.
I'm going to write out my thoughts in essentially reverse chronological order, because each one led to the next, and I don't remember the source, but I think I can determine what caused each one directly, so I can follow my confusion back to Chaos.
You know what's really nice? Life isn't looking to great, and you hang out with some great friends, and you find out who your real friends are, and you had a lot fewer than you thought, and then, out of the blue, you get two messages that cheer you up (in a twisted way) despite not being able to secure your good old job that paid really well and was promised to you. The first message was a normal sort of cheer. I won a small scholarship that should alleviate some of the pressure this summer; perhaps I won't have to ask my dad for the fifteen hundred dollars he owes me. Even better is the lack of recognizable names on the list: naught but one friend and one acquaintance were as lucky as me. I'm in an exclusive group of twenty-three individuals. The other message was short and extremely encouraging, even though it was somewhat sad, but I knew that the author was thinking about me, and that made all the difference—it was heartwarming, you could say. I almost live by this principle; it's so close to the truth. The encouragement is twisted, though, because I don't think the one who gave it is doing well, and it worries me simultaneously. I fear for another's wellbeing; what hypocrisy is this?
That little bit of light in a dreary landscape is that little bit of hope that deceives you into believing Disney. It works every time, no matter how careful you are, unless you really have control over yourself. I used to; I could control my yearnings for false hope. I've lost it, though, and with the control goes happiness, because when I can't rely on myself anymore, I must resort to relying on other people, and that involves trust, and trust never doesn't involve pain in large quantities. Severe and chronic is the pain, and it only needs a little bit of trust in a moment of weakness to torment you for ages. Now that I have extended myself further into the world, I am forced to set up stronger defenses across wider borders, which is nigh impossible in my current mental state. Thus, I write. Does it help? I hope so. We'll see. Check in the near future, when I have solved all of my problems.
The paradox arrives with humanitarianism. How am I to live with the knowledge that others suffer? Well, I don't really know what it feels like, so I can't really empathize. Now, though, I meet people who experience pain emotionally that I have myself experienced, and their experiences become a part of my reality, and I'm paralyzed, because I had no idea that other people could feel like me. I'm now personally responsible for their happiness as far as it concerns me, because WOE IS ME if I cause the pain I spent a lifetime avoiding. How can I continue my social engineering if it can cause this? Social engineering involves copious quantities of misplaced trust for the purpose of manipulation. I am now faced with cutting off someone's trust for the first time, and, knowing the feeling of betrayal, I know not whether my efforts are worth the risks involved. I have no tried and true of letting a friend down gently, so to speak, because no one has ever bothered to do it to me. In order to evaluate the situation, the easiest course of action is to consider a close friend and ponder to myself, "If this individual wished to cease being my friend, what would the preferred method of notification be?" After nearly a moment's pondering, I arrive at the obvious and only conclusion: unless a victim takes a dislike to the engineer, any method of removing the relationship will result in pain. The solution, then, is to seed some sort of dislike in the victim. A conflict arises when the victim is socially involved with some of your actual friends, and behavioral differences are noted. This is all a big secret, though. You're not allowed to know this.
At this point, I've even confused myself, as I have lost the road in favor of a rabbit's trail. I might as well be frank and concise and disorderly, as my previous method of organization is rendered useless. I have identified the source of the stress in my current experience, but I cannot pin down the solution for the life of me, and, naturally, this disturbs me to no end. The source is twofold and complex and intertwined, and if you don't see the pattern, well, you're in the same boat as the rest of the world, but it doesn't matter, because seeing the pattern doesn't aid in the solution.
When I return to "home", I feel safe and secure because it's a place I know, and in it live people I know, and my life is restored to a comfortable state. I really, really hate it when I learn things that twist the definition and state of this "home", because I feel lost and almost homeless, although in a few people I still feel it, and I've even met a person from afar who causes a feeling of "home".
Again, over and over, I discover a desire to feel at home anywhere my mind functions. This state of mind is entirely possible with the control I have lost, and if I had that, I could be alone again, but now I need to be with people, or else I'll die. I need the communication, and I've spent so many years alone when alone meant home that I don't know how to communicate effectively when I need people to be home. I can think of three people now that I need to survive. I have an attachment, and this is the source of pain, right here.
It should all be falling together right now.
Falling together... a wonderful thought.
You used to be so warm and affectionateIt's up to the reader to determine the relevance of these lyrics. I'm not going to interpret them for you, but I'll give you a little hint: half of the meaning is in the sound of the song.
All the little things I used to hear my fairy say
But now you're quick to get into your regret
Take a fall and now you got to give it all away
...
You used to be so warm and affectionate
I used to know just what I wanted and just where to go
And now you're quick to get into your regret
And now I walk alone and talk about it, when I know
I'm going to write out my thoughts in essentially reverse chronological order, because each one led to the next, and I don't remember the source, but I think I can determine what caused each one directly, so I can follow my confusion back to Chaos.
You know what's really nice? Life isn't looking to great, and you hang out with some great friends, and you find out who your real friends are, and you had a lot fewer than you thought, and then, out of the blue, you get two messages that cheer you up (in a twisted way) despite not being able to secure your good old job that paid really well and was promised to you. The first message was a normal sort of cheer. I won a small scholarship that should alleviate some of the pressure this summer; perhaps I won't have to ask my dad for the fifteen hundred dollars he owes me. Even better is the lack of recognizable names on the list: naught but one friend and one acquaintance were as lucky as me. I'm in an exclusive group of twenty-three individuals. The other message was short and extremely encouraging, even though it was somewhat sad, but I knew that the author was thinking about me, and that made all the difference—it was heartwarming, you could say. I almost live by this principle; it's so close to the truth. The encouragement is twisted, though, because I don't think the one who gave it is doing well, and it worries me simultaneously. I fear for another's wellbeing; what hypocrisy is this?
That little bit of light in a dreary landscape is that little bit of hope that deceives you into believing Disney. It works every time, no matter how careful you are, unless you really have control over yourself. I used to; I could control my yearnings for false hope. I've lost it, though, and with the control goes happiness, because when I can't rely on myself anymore, I must resort to relying on other people, and that involves trust, and trust never doesn't involve pain in large quantities. Severe and chronic is the pain, and it only needs a little bit of trust in a moment of weakness to torment you for ages. Now that I have extended myself further into the world, I am forced to set up stronger defenses across wider borders, which is nigh impossible in my current mental state. Thus, I write. Does it help? I hope so. We'll see. Check in the near future, when I have solved all of my problems.
The paradox arrives with humanitarianism. How am I to live with the knowledge that others suffer? Well, I don't really know what it feels like, so I can't really empathize. Now, though, I meet people who experience pain emotionally that I have myself experienced, and their experiences become a part of my reality, and I'm paralyzed, because I had no idea that other people could feel like me. I'm now personally responsible for their happiness as far as it concerns me, because WOE IS ME if I cause the pain I spent a lifetime avoiding. How can I continue my social engineering if it can cause this? Social engineering involves copious quantities of misplaced trust for the purpose of manipulation. I am now faced with cutting off someone's trust for the first time, and, knowing the feeling of betrayal, I know not whether my efforts are worth the risks involved. I have no tried and true of letting a friend down gently, so to speak, because no one has ever bothered to do it to me. In order to evaluate the situation, the easiest course of action is to consider a close friend and ponder to myself, "If this individual wished to cease being my friend, what would the preferred method of notification be?" After nearly a moment's pondering, I arrive at the obvious and only conclusion: unless a victim takes a dislike to the engineer, any method of removing the relationship will result in pain. The solution, then, is to seed some sort of dislike in the victim. A conflict arises when the victim is socially involved with some of your actual friends, and behavioral differences are noted. This is all a big secret, though. You're not allowed to know this.
At this point, I've even confused myself, as I have lost the road in favor of a rabbit's trail. I might as well be frank and concise and disorderly, as my previous method of organization is rendered useless. I have identified the source of the stress in my current experience, but I cannot pin down the solution for the life of me, and, naturally, this disturbs me to no end. The source is twofold and complex and intertwined, and if you don't see the pattern, well, you're in the same boat as the rest of the world, but it doesn't matter, because seeing the pattern doesn't aid in the solution.
When I return to "home", I feel safe and secure because it's a place I know, and in it live people I know, and my life is restored to a comfortable state. I really, really hate it when I learn things that twist the definition and state of this "home", because I feel lost and almost homeless, although in a few people I still feel it, and I've even met a person from afar who causes a feeling of "home".
Again, over and over, I discover a desire to feel at home anywhere my mind functions. This state of mind is entirely possible with the control I have lost, and if I had that, I could be alone again, but now I need to be with people, or else I'll die. I need the communication, and I've spent so many years alone when alone meant home that I don't know how to communicate effectively when I need people to be home. I can think of three people now that I need to survive. I have an attachment, and this is the source of pain, right here.
It should all be falling together right now.
Falling together... a wonderful thought.
posted by Andrew Hills at 2:40 AM
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