Today, I talked to my house-mate, the lady at the bar, the man at the stage, the mamak guy who took my order, my char kuey tiow guy, and the two shisha guys. That makes 7 people. Which was a lot more than I expected to find for the day. Honestly, it felt like I talked to nobody.
This is apparently what emo feels like. Some form of depression. To be honest, I just get glum and self-piteous because I'm alone, it's a Friday night and I want to be out there, having adventures physically instead of watching or reading something else. I want things to happen to me. But nothing came knocking on my door. So I was left hungry. So hungry.
I don't know how to call people out. I'm a mostly self contained human being. I operate within my comfort zone of people. And they don't always have time for me or want me. I have too few comfort zones. I think I've overused them. The moment I feel sick of me, they feel sick of me. I don't know where else to go. I feel so restless.
I wish that I never need other people. I wish that I could operate like a soulless person, that I only need food and drink and immaterial things. Then, I could focus on tasks and be a fully socio-independent machine and not think about him or her or have feelings. Or at the very least, just never need to acquire feedback. So I can give, I have no objections in giving. I would give my time, my effort, my money, whatever you need. Then, when I truly need nothing in return, I would never need to worry about how I feel being alone every night.
And I have given a lot of it. Despite that, I still worry about feeling alone. I still have to tell myself to buck up. Nobody would call you. Nobody needs you. You can give all the love in the world. (Or is it love? Could it just be some psychopathic power game which I don't realize?) But there is no rule that people would love you back.
So much effort being expanded in something so utterly useless. I should spend my time caring about other things, work, etc. And this is what I choose to obsess about. Well done. Intelligence well spent.
Another year, another attempt to stay sober. I think I get addicted to people and how happy I get being with them. I don't remember or I just ignore the fact that they can hurt me. I want people and adore them incessantly, with such intensity that almost seems to smother you. I could rely on you, give you my full weight and sink into your world. It's wrong, and nobody wants it. I'm not family. I'm not a lover. I just love... too much. And I'm absurdly romantic about it too. It's farcical, almost ridiculous. But that is me in an unleashed form. I'm not sure where to hide it.
Sickness aside, I know how good it is when I help people. I will keep trying to adore people. I will try to give them everything they can possibly need from me and expect nothing in return. To do that I will try to need nothing, want nothing.
I might be alone forever. But I'm not afraid. And I will embrace it. I don't have a choice.
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