On one side I enjoy solitude, walking alone, drawing, fishing and cooking. Most people bore me because I find them dull and superficial. I specially hate the talkative, needy ones who wont shut up and believe I care what they think. I dislike big groups of drunks or people that need to yell and listen to loud music to feel good.
On the other hand, I’ll die one day, possibly alone, because I don’t have the emotional bandwidth for a girlfriend, marriage or raising children, nor to go to a club or a similar social occasion where people find other humans and maybe a partner.
Suddenly, dying alone with no children feels depressing: Everything I save and don’t spend will be appropriated or sold, everything I learn, a whole life of experiences, will simply be forgotten, I know I won’t feel anything when I die, or after, and I shouldn’t care about it, but I still feel sad I’m going to die without nobody but the debt collectors noticing my death. Suggesting I marry out of desperation so I don’t die alone would be a terrible idea. So don’t. I’m too set on my ways and wouldn’t be fair to any child.
I like some human contact but feel the world offers me either loud, drunk jerks, immature idiots or the complete solitude I have now, a solitude I mostly enjoy but sometimes makes me feel alone.
Huh. That’s actually a pretty great analogy.
Our whole society has a bit of a problem with this drug right now. Like, yes, relationships suck. Making small talk or dealing with a whatever institutional gatekeeper sucks. But in the process of eliminating those things, we’ve made it way, way to easy to have no connection to anyone.
I agree. It’s something I deal with myself. Stress is stress regardless of what it is. Someone having a bunch of problems making dinner can feel the same level of stress as someone running a marathon. When I get stressed I disconnect. I normally don’t realize it until my reclusion has become a jail cell.