Before I start the blog, I’ll just say that this is the first in like two weeks, since I’ve been pretty busy with finals and vacationing and end of the year stuff, so I apologize for my tardiness. A small bit of background on this post before you read it, so you can decide if this is something you want to read. The subject is fairly dark and I’m definitely going to be spouting off feelings which will probably be irrational and imbalanced, but they’ll be what my head and heart are telling me. If you don’t like that kind of thing, or for some reason get offended or feel like criticizing or something bizarre like that, sorry, but this is going to be somewhat rant-ish. I won’t be writing about martians and invading planets, but the other meaning of alien, which means outsider essentially. I thought about how I wanted to do this, and on the plane back from San Jose on Wednesday, I tried to start a short story. The short story was going to be a metaphor for my current situation in life, but I couldn’t quite pin down a way to start it or make it into a short story, and it started sounding like a journal entry, so I scrapped it. It was going to be set in colonial times, and maybe you’ll be able to illustrate the following entry that way in your own head and connect the dots. I also considered actual martian aliens, maybe being an illegal immigrant, but all of those proved unfruitful for me. So, I’m deciding to just go with what I normally do. Without further ado, here is my entry, turn back now, or forever hold your peace.
I’ve already started this oddly, but I’ll just set the mood right now. I addressed it partially in my post about depression, but I’m going to talk about it some more. I, quite simply, feel like an alien. Like, all the time. I mean that almost entirely.”Why do I mean that?” you may ask. Well, I say that because everywhere I go, I find the same thing. People. I consider myself an optimist, and an idealist most of the time, and perhaps that’s why I feel this way, because I can’t go anywhere or do anything without people letting me down. Maybe my expectations for everyone are too high, or maybe I do something to deserve it, but like I said in my honesty post, nobody ever bothers to tell me, so there’s another disappointment, and I’ll rule that one out until someone tells me otherwise. I don’t want to be misconstrued as vengeful or hateful. Maybe I do have a little of those, but what the real problem is is that I have so much love to give, and nobody to give it to. I LOVE people. I love to watch them walk, and talk, and just exist as people. I love to interact with people and laugh with people and feel wanted by people. But, alas, none of that ever seems to pass. I am very aware this is dangerous, which is why I am coming here to talk about it. I don’t have anywhere else to turn without feeling like a burden or a waste of space or an inconvenience. To tell the truth, I wasn’t sure what to write about for my next blog post, but after several occurrences over vacation to rip the scab off of these wounds, I knew I had to write about this. I am so full of frustration towards a dozen different people and life and existence, you name it, I am frustrated with it. I love everything about people and life, but the on paper versions. People disappoint me and frustrate me, because all of them seem to lack one thing. To put it in nicer terms, they don’t give a flying fahoodle about me. If they do, now would be an awesome time to show it, because the dam is breaking and the first thing I need is a little support to keep it together.
I’ll start my ventilation at my sister. Interacting with her is like trying to defuse a bomb while standing on broken glass at gunpoint with plastic scissors. If I had one word to describe her, it would be diva. To add more, it would be over sensitive, irrational, wrathful, illogical, ignorant, uninterested, and uncaring. For one thing, she has the iconic, signature fourteen year old popular girl, forgive me for the language, bitchy attitude. Be careful about telling her that though, because she will snap your neck before you can say anything else. Her entire demeanor reeks of the attitude, and although I try, no words can truly describe it for what it is. When we get into arguments, she doesn’t bother trying to argue the point, she just resorts to insults. Something about me can’t handle it when people don’t care. And let me tell you, she does not care at all. I look at other people with their sisters, and I can’t even comprehend behaving around my sister the way they do. The animosity between us is so bad, and this is true of my brother also, that I have thought about the future and imagined her out of it. Telling my kids some day that they don’t have an aunt or uncle, that maybe I was an only child. Or maybe just not letting them meet my kids, or not inviting them to my wedding, things of that nature. My parents say when they die, my siblings are all I’ll have left, and that frightens me not because I won’t have my parents, but because I’ll be stuck with them until one of us dies. Hopefully times change in the future once we can cool down and mature, but if things continue the way they are, the last time I talk to my sister might be the day I go off to college.
Now for my brother. Much of his story is the same as my sister, but for different reasons. I really can’t tell you why, but when I see him or hear him speak, my mood instantly goes sour. It’s kind of like having a glass of water, and my brother has been squeezing lemons over it constantly and slowly over the course of my life, and now all I’m left with is sourness. He has a lot of the same qualities as my sister, only magnified to be even worse. He says what he thinks, he’s needy, he can’t do a thing for himself, he sits in front of Minecraft all day, he tries to associate with older people but it is way too forced, I could go on forever. Literally hearing him speak, even friendly words makes me mad. Again, similar situation with my sister, only about ten times worse.
Now for the interesting people: my parents. I bet you all don’t know I even have parents since I rarely address them in these posts, but alas, I do. I’ll start with my dad since he is fresh in my mind after vacation. I will say I love my parents, because I do, though I can’t really decide about my siblings under all the muck. Anyway, my dad gets on my nerves pretty much only when I’m around my siblings. He exacerbates the problems without knowing it. Every time I snap at Tucker, which in my mind seems warranted since he’s spent his entire life squeezing lemon juice in my water, he gets mad at me and says I’m bullying him, even though my brother is the one causing it. As a business major, maybe I can make it clear to him that my brother has caused catastrophic negative externalities. Knowing what you know about my brother and sister, imagine this seven day vacation where we are together practically 24/7. That’s like lighting a fuse and expecting the bomb not to blow up, or putting a tiger and a gazelle in the same room and expecting the tiger not to eat the gazelle. I had fun, but I had numerous occasions where I was sour because of someone in my family. Back to my dad, I can’t tell him a single thing, no matter how many times he says I can. Everything I say to him he tries to fix. Well I don’t WANT fixing, I want ACCEPTANCE. Someone to tell me its ok. When a building falls over, you don’t start building a new one without taking care of the wounded and dead. Talking to my dad is like talking to a deaf person with words. IT DON’T WORK. When I say talking, I mean about the real gritty feeling stuff, not the little stuff about tv shows and books. I also really feel shunned by my dad almost. He takes my siblings side on everything, or he doesn’t take a side at all. Every time I want him to butt in and sort something out, he sits on the sideline, yet every time I expect him to sit on the sideline, he jumps in playing for the other team. All that does is leave me feel ganged up on, and worthless. He just recently started calling me Sheldon for the Big Bang Theory character, but he seems to be so much happier with my brother and sister, like he cares about them more, and I just feel like a third wheel.
Now for my mom. I do love her, but oh my gosh she can get on my nerves. She’s like an adult version of my sister in a way. Maybe she’s going through menopause, but she has a history of getting angry when there isn’t a need for it. And also like my dad, she doesn’t know when to step in and when not to. But about the anger, there are very few things where I feel like I can talk to her because she takes everything personally or doesn’t seem to really care. She takes an interest in everything I don’t want her to, and isn’t interested in what I would like her to be interested in. It all results in me just ignoring her and getting frustrated with her and hiding things from her that I’d like to tell her and know I should, but knowing she won’t like them not because they’re necessarily bad things, but because she over reacts to them.
If you can’t see a running theme here, I have nobody to turn to in my family, which is the first place a person should be able to turn, in the physical sense I mean. But if that isn’t enough, I am practically alone everywhere else. When I go to school, I’m surrounded by everyone and noone at the same time. Sometimes I wonder if I were to die or go missing, if the most attention that would get the next day would be being marked absent on the attendance sheet. I can count on every one of those students, whether I call them my friend or not, to carry on with their lives as if nothing changed. No text, no call, no letter, no stop by the house to see if I’m okay. Even when I show up, I’m practically invisible. Nobody says hi to me in the hallways, I’m a tool in the classroom, and nobody bothers to take a few seconds to ask how I’m doing. Unless I initiate a conversation with someone, I stay quiet. Naturally, this isn’t ALWAYS the case, but its the case enough to where I am magnificently bothered by it and nobody seems to give a damn. I could wheel in in a wheel chair, and the most I’d get is probably the crowds parting for me. No wonder people say I look miserable and bitter all the time, because most of the time I am. The exception to that is during my theatre where I try my hardest to be happy and not worry about how lousy I feel. Even then it still permeates a bit.
I’ll go even further. My free time. What do I do with my free time most of the time? I sit at the computer or on the couch waiting for something to happen. Something so much as a Facebook message or notification brightens my day. A text message means the world to me. I honestly cannot remember the last time somebody texted me for anything, excluding my parents asking when I want to be picked up or something along those lines. None of my “friends” text to ask about my day, to chat, to invite me to something on the weekend, zippo. I have to do EVERYTHING to be included to something with my friends. The last time I got a personal invitation to ANYTHING in ANY FORM was to a sweet 16 five months ago. Before that, I don’t even remember. Now, I don’t have a problem taking some responsibility to make a friendship work, but when I have to do everything just to be acknowledged, there’s a problem. And like I’ve said before, I am not aware of myself being the problem, so until that is pointed out to me, I’m going to assume that other people are the problem. I’ll just sit in a state of limbo waiting for something to change, because one person can’t cause a change. It takes joint effort from multiple parties. After my mission trip to Mexico, which by the way I signed up for, which is one of the few exceptions to where I feel remotely wanted, I have no plans, nor do I anticipate any of my saintly friends to care and invite me somewhere. I know from experience that when I try to organize something, people are busy with their own friends and plans. Oh well I suppose, I guess I’ll just wait until something happens. Maybe this post will change something. But who can tell.
I have two more groups of people left to address, before I have one or two last things to say. The first of these groups is my online friend group. I do play computer games, and I’ve met some people through the computer in various fashions. Some of them are better friends to me than my in person friends, which is why I don’t believe people when they say bad things about people on the internet, or that people who play computer games are somehow lost in their own little world. A computer game is no more fantasy than a superbowl game. It is a means to socialize and entertain. Believe it or not, when I play with people online, there are OTHER PEOPLE there, just not in the physical sense. It’s no different than texting or a phone call. They are real people just disguised in another form. Most of my closest friends I met that way, and if you don’t believe that can happen, I beg to differ. Meeting people through a game is no different than meeting people at a bar. They are both social hubs where people gather in common interest. I met friends who like online gaming, but beyond that, since they are people and have feelings and thoughts and outside lives, I can connect with them even more. I have a lot in common with a lot of them, and just because I haven’t physically met them, doesn’t mean I don’t really know them. I know them just as well as the people I know in real life, some better. That’s also why I don’t take my mom too seriously when she talks about internet predators. I am smart enough to know the difference, and if I’m not, I’ve gotten really lucky because none of the people I really know are internet predators. I know it is possible, but its not a heck of a lot more probable than meeting a predator in real life. I’d argue I know more predators in my school than online. Anyway, I still don’t get to turn to them often, simply because they are most of the time a few years older than me and live in different places, meaning they have jobs and live in different time zones sometimes. I turn to them most often, but they aren’t available that often, so I get stuck.
My last group I wish to address is my youth group people. MOST of them are really awesome people who I am comfortable turning to, but there are those who aren’t, and some I even try to avoid. However, the most contact I get with most of them is once a week at youth group, and occasionally outside of that. I like a lot of the people there. I really do. I also feel confident that they don’t despise me there. We do have a fun time, I think they enjoy my company, I know I enjoy most of their company, but my one complaint is that its so shortlived. I am aware that the leaders have jobs and families, and the students have their own lives, but I would really appreciate some more outreach and opportunities to hang out. If any of them read this, my plea to them would be to please invite me to events and such, and I will return the favor. I am not a liar, and I am genuinely interested in spending more time with you all. So, if you read this, I ask for your help because I have nowhere else to turn to any more.
That ends my addresses of why I am so alone in the world. I know I’m not the only one, but this is a huge struggle for me. My plea to any people I actually know who read this is that you include me, and I’ll include you. Shoot me some texts that don’t take longer than thirty seconds to send, if you’re going some place and want some company, send me an invite. I will gladly return the favor. I hate asking to be included, because it makes me feel intrusive and out of place, because in my mind, if they wanted me there in the first place, they’d invite me. If that’s the case and everyone is consciously excluding me, then I have a much larger fish to fry.
Anyway, if you can’t connect this to the story things at the top of the post, I’ll highlight some things. For the colonial thing, there would have been a family to represent my own. There would probably be a school house where I was a poor kid and everyone else was rich and shunned me. My only friends were the Native Americans, which my family and other friends didn’t approve of. My church friends would be church people. The same sort of thing could go for any number of settings.
My closing statement will be this. I apologize for possibly coming off as whiny, ignorant, or any of the traits that I myself so despise, or if I am hypocritical for doing such, or if I somehow offend anyone who reads this. These are just my raw feelings and emotions. Thank you for bearing with me, and I really hope some people will read this and realize how much pain I am in every day and how sad I am. I don’t like being this way, and I need your guys’ help to get me out of it.