Here's something I didn't submit to OBW, but I found in when I was cleaning out some old files... I wrote this a while ago. I know jo's read it before... it's called Clarity. I might submit it if I print it tonight, even though I know it wouldn't be selected and I'd probably just get sent to a counselor. ;)
I came to clarity recently. I realized that there is no joy in my life. In consolation, out of pity, some try to point to moments of fun, activities I enjoy. They offer this as "evidence" as to why I should be happy. Or they wonder how despite all these, I can remain so unhappy. The problem is that these are but fleeting distractions from the morass of despair that consumes my life. Every day I look around me and watch the interactions of my peers. I ponder what I observe. Then I look at myself. I find in myself someone whose presence and existence are preferred by no one over those of anyone else. I am no one's best friend. Given a choice, no one would choose my company over that of anyone else. I have nothing to offer. I find that I am unoriginal, the very definition of conformity. My personality is an amalgamation of the characteristics of those I try to associate with. When my peers change, so does my personality and behavior. I bring nothing new to the table, and as such am understandably passed up by everyone in favor of those I emulate. I know this to be true, and I know it to be no one's fault but my own. And I know nothing can be done to change inherent flaws in me. I accept it. Yet nevertheless it frightens me. It terrifies me. I look at my current situation and I fear a future of continued perpetual loneliness. It will continue to be that no one will care about me. The only reasons anyone feigns interest in my depression are either to appease their guilt and pity, or to fulfill social obligation. I am a burden, and no more. No one would choose to deal with me were it not forced, and given the opportunity, I am ignored. Common things I see my peers do for and to each other are systematically skipped when it comes to me. I am never invited. I am instead conveniently forgotten. If I overhear the formation of plans, I am sometimes included, only out of courtesy and obligation, but not because anyone really wanted me there. If I hear about something to which I wasn't invited, the excuse is made that I would have been welcome had I asked. Of course, I would not have been welcome, or else I would have been invited in the first place. I only would have been tolerated. No one has ever remembered my birthday. It's not really a big deal to me, but I see that others seem to remember and celebrate each other's birthdays. The undertaking of thinking of a gift to give, going to a store, spending money on the gift, wrapping it and presenting it, that others regularly partake for their friends is not even necessary. I would be content, in fact overjoyed if anyone simply said to me "happy birthday." So I know they acknowledge my existence, that they thought of me. Yet that simple recognition is never visited upon me. By anyone. Ever. No one ever compliments me. No one ever appreciates me. Nothing positive I do for others is ever returned in kind to me. I care, and no one cares in return. I listen, and am ignored in return. I love, and am unloved in return. I see my peers praise each other and care about each other and be kind to each other and appreciate each other and love each other. I instead receive only insults, grievances, irritation, ridicule, annoyance and scorn. And I am alone in this predicament. Everyone I know is truly appreciated in some way. Even loved and appreciated in ways they don't know. For each one of them, there are friends and others who are better for having known each individual. Such is not the case for me. I have an either neutral or negative effect on everyone. I am nothing interesting or special or unique. Had I never been, no one would be worse off. Were I to be no more, at the core, no one would be particularly affected. No holes would be left in anyone. No one would lose love. My purported accomplishments would be exaggerated, and everyone would say how sorry they are, and what a waste it was. But eventually, as always, they would move on, leaving me forgotten. Because of this fact, it is clear that my fear of loneliness is founded. No one will ever value me as they do others; I will never be anyone's everything.
Hope you liked it. It's old, I don't quite feel like that anymore, so don't worry...
--Fiend
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