26

Being alone makes me sad on a regular basis. I like people, but I don't like being around them. 

In fact I'm consistently surviving off of parasocial relationships. Hearing other people talk to each other. 

I am erased from the equation. I love this feeling. I love feeling present but not having a presence. I love being a disembodied spectator. 

People say that introversion is a matter of running out of energy. But for me its completely binary. I'm either ok around people or not ok.

I think it would be correct to say that my lack of investment in people makes me a bad person. 

But I like to think, at the very least, that I'm not manipulative.

A truly bad person would recognize their self centeredness and still try to use people. I don't like the idea of using people at all. 

It's partially because I know that I would make a bad boyfriend that I couldn't push myself to be one. If I by some miracle did find myself in a relationship, I can easily see a scenario where guilt pushes me to be kind and emotionally available once or twice. 

But quickly I will try to erase myself, tactically leave the rooms she is in. Never confront problems, but also have 0 energy to emote positively about anything. 

I don't think I could even be a creep if I wanted to. I just don't have the time or dedication to hang around someone's place of residency, or look up information about them.

The following statement might not be true, because I would have to experience it to really know. But I'm pretty certain that if I were to find myself by some wildly improbable circumstance, to be living with someone in an extra marital relationship, my relief from conforming to societal norms/values would be greater than my christian guilt. 

Conversely, I can certainly say, because I am living it, the guilt I feel right now about being single is greater than my pride in my chastity, which is really just a matter of doing absolutely nothing.

This year I've been sleeping less. Nothing dramatic, just by an hour or so. It's mainly because oftentimes when I'm falling asleep I get hit with this very topic, and a sense of urgency, of needing to act on what I should have taken care of six years ago. It makes my skin crawl and my body temperature rise slightly. 

The gears spin uselessly and I try to find a solution to this dilemma that is perpetually in the back of my mind but only affects me about 3 nights a week. But 3 nights a week is enough to ruin my previously perfect sleep schedule. 

How can I solve this. There is no way out, and hardly a way forward, because I only have new ideas every 5 years or so. 

And having new ideas doesn't change who I am as a person, anyways. 

It's more like a single, heavy gear, slowly turning by itself. 

I remember spending my 4 hour long shifts at a dorm cafeteria either thinking about nothing or thinking about marriage. It was a rare occasion where I was forced to be around people for a couple hours. If there ever was a time to find a solution, it was then. 

But a solution never came. All those hours making around 9 $ an hour without a hint of productivity, other than to quietly panic about this. 

I am in the exact same position, to this day. Quietly panicking. Somehow believing that a solution is possible.

I have to admit to myself that the time spent thinking about marriage is not cumulative. I'm not moving forward with an action plan. I'm not growing in wisdom or kindness.

Witnessing certain things online and even in real life has led me to believe that this relationship question is a common struggle/obsession for lots of people. I hear that groups of people on the internet even believe the problem has to do with bone structure. 

I think for my case, considering how little experience I have with actually asking people out, my theory revolves naively and simply around the concept of kindness. Girls want someone who is nice to them.

The reason I believe this is because I fail at being kind. Reading tinder profiles (something I do almost on a daily basis) I have come to the conclusion that girls want someone who will engage with them. Talk to them. Listen to them. Go on trips. Watch tv shows. 

None of these things sound appealing to me. I'm just so uninterested in other people's lives. Even if I made the effort to focus on what people tell me about them I probably wouldn't retain the information. I'd rather spend time being self absorbed and self critical than give even a passing thought to someone else's problems or victories. 

Being kind to a girl. 

No amount of thought, no number of shifts working at a cafeteria will bring me closer to achieving this. 

Sometimes I look at one of my hands. It's empty. I close it into a fist, then open it again. Still empty. 

Whenever I match with someone on tinder I consider for a second the logistics of meeting a physical human,

and how much I don't want to waste my weekend taking a train into the city to banter uncomfortably with someone for a couple hours, no matter how gorgeous they are. Just thinking about passing through the urban sprawl up north makes me want get away.

When I went to a concert with her this summer it was the most date-like experience I've ever had, and I'm extremely sad that moment is gone forever and that I may never experience something like it again.

But the day prior and the day of I could hardly eat anything and I was half hoping that it could be called off the whole time. 

It was amazing. I want to use so many superlatives to describe that moment of looking into her eyes because she asked me if her eyelashes were still on. 

Phantasy has bled into a reality, now a memory. Memory is its own form of phantasy. 

Presently the window of her intentions has shifted in my mind. 

On the one end of the scale is the possibility of interest in a relationship. 

On the other she simply has a fascination with the fringe elements of humanity and she likes me like some people like large insects. 

Pessimist that I am, I'm resolutely convinced that her affection for me is in this second category. 

I guess the true reality of the situation is that she just casually likes me and wants to be my friend. 

But the events of this summer absolutely make the possibility of romantic interest not out of the question.

This is wild to me, because prior to this summer I've spent the last 7 years guarding myself from romantic interpretations of every glance or conversation.

But now the window has shifted.   

But the very idea of legitimate interest, instead of making me happy, is more distressing than anything, because that would mean I'm not capitalizing on it. 

Furthermore, and more importantly, if that was indeed the situation, I still don't know how I could have anything to offer as a boyfriend. 

In a way I feel like I am already failing as a pseudo-boyfriend for not sending messages and gifts.

If her intentions seem vague to me, I can only imagine how she must feel about mine. 

Anyway. There is no longer any thing else to worry about. Cars, visas, work, school, everything is in a state of stasis this year. 

This year has been especially anxiety free. But that anxiety has been replaced with sadness. 

Ever since I got back from vacation I've felt sad. So much so the word 'Sad' materializes into my mind. 

It's as if 26 marks a point where the sun has started to set instead of rise. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. 

I will say that being sad is way better than being anxious. 

These past nights I've fallen asleep thinking how cruelly time is moving. 

I desperately want the work day to be over. But then I catch myself. I turned 26 TWO MONTHS ago already. 

All I want is for time to move forward. At the same time, I don't want to age anymore. At all. I hate it. 26 already feels too old, like it's some embarrassment, especially since everyone in my class is so much younger than me. 

I'm having a hard time stopping myself in my tracks and thinking in any instance: isn't it great that this moment is here, I wish it could last a little longer.

Instead, this very moment, I'm looking at the clock on my monitor. It's 3:27. Wouldn't it be great if it was 5? Wouldn't it be great for the next hour and 33 minutes to just collapse, because of course nothing interesting or worthwhile is going to happen. 

The only major thing I have to look forward to is seeing my family next summer, and maybe Kat if I'm lucky. A whole year of nothing to look forward to, that could just collapse for all I care. 

A whole uneventful year in which a heavy useless gear quietly turns. 

In a way, this makes me already 27. 

To know yourself is to know your future. Then the future starts to fold, just like the past does, because you know the past. 

I know my fate.

In 2020 I will leave. When I'm 28 I will leave. The next two years fold and collapse so cleanly it's like they don't even exist. I'm already 28.

Its weird. I have no fondness for my first job, even though I was actually given work to do, as opposed to now. 

It's just that, the computer is nicer now. The chairs are more comfortable. It's not in a basement. There's a window next to me. I have better clothes. 

I'm more materialist than I thought. In maslow's hierarchy of needs, it seemed that material things were less important than a purposeful and interesting job. 

But weighing the two, I'd rather have nice accommodations than something to do. 

A funny thing that happened during my first job is that my boss was supposed to come to my school to meet with the teachers and discuss the program. 

He said he was too busy to go. He was the only one who didn't show up. Every other student's boss was there. 

They printed out everyone's grades along with other information about the apprenticeship. 

My average was two points above everyone else's. So I guess the story is: It's ironic that he wasn't there.

Something I've had to learn is that No One Cares. 

I keep getting slighted by common wisdom. 

Wisdom states that getting good grades pays off. 

Wisdom states that self actualization is more important than material comfort. 

Wisdom states that reaching out to others will improve your life. 

Sometimes I look at one of my hands. It's empty. I close it into a fist, then open it again. Still empty. 

It does feel good to see that I have relatively high grades. And in spite of panicking a little last year, it turns out that I had the same average I've always had: 15. 

Twice I've pursued a higher education. Twice I've felt the creeping feeling that 10% of the job is technical skills. 

90% is social skills.

It's nice that I can sort of focus a camera, understand the rule of thirds. Remember the Rashomon narrative technique. Be familiar with the Eisenstein dialectic. 

Comprehend linked lists. Grasp the basic concepts of assembly language. 

But the 90% weighs over me. 

As I grow older, I almost feel like my social skills are disappearing. 

I've been told that I'm basically guaranteed a job (at least in France) with my engineering degree. 

But I see now how essential it is to be able to talk. 

While I'm sitting here doing practically nothing I'm starting to suffocate on my own silence.

Maybe introversion isn't an identity. Maybe it's just a character flaw. 

Whenever I look to the future the only image that ever comes is of lying face down in a field. 

I do believe that you can get by only on technical skill. But for that you can't just be above average. You have to be exceptional. 

Sometimes people at work will recognize that I'm above average. It's never my actual manager. Especially the current one, who has twice given me tasks that he will promptly give to someone else to complete, completely invalidating my work. 

And these small recognitions from actual developers aren't enough. They don't make the commitment worth it. Nothing is worth it. 

I'm spiraling, very slowly. 

What am I supposed to do in two years? 

I have to fight against my desire for self harm in these instances. 

By self harm, I mean deciding to do something I don't actually want to do, but because I want to be respected. Working in construction that one summer was one instance of this. 

I need to celebrate every selfish moment of hedonism and talk myself down from doing something like working hard, because it doesn't matter, and no one will ever respect me either way. The truth is I will never be respected and it's pointless to even pursue it. Lying in a field , faced down, feels somewhat like an image of victory. 

To be honest, solving all of life's minor problems (work, relationships) by focusing on the relativism of everything is getting tiring. 

I wish I didn't have to think about the big picture every time these small points of sadness appear. I guess because I'm not proactive this is my only option. 

My pet theory is that what I really want deep down inside is a dark room and a game console

And all of my unhappiness comes from other people, how they perceive me or how I imagine I'm perceived.
At 24 I described myself as a goblin. At 25 I was trash. This year the new image, or word, is cryptid. It brings to mind, to me, something lurking in the darkness. Gaunt, sunken eyes. Something unknowable. It's the most inaccurate of the 3, but it is also to me the most reassuring. 

If I could be convinced that finding a Wife and socializing and taking a train into the city would not make me a better person, and that I'm fine, actually, then maybe I would find 

true happiness.

I wrote all of this before learning that Kat has a boyfriend now. 

The gear stops. 

Then it resumes. 

I've spent my life opening as few doors (conversations) as possible, to avoid as many consequences as possible. 

But now something that very much feels like a Consequence has befallen me. 

Kat is the only cute girl I've ever met that is nice to weird kids. 

Like, legitimately nice to them. She hangs out with weird kids. She's in their world. 

Who does that. 

Thats how I perceive her anyway. 

By weird I guess I mean unpredictable. 

It makes perfect sense for women to avoid people who aren't predictable. 

A door that I never had the guts to open is now (once again) locked. 

Maybe it's not my fault and this has nothing to do with me. 

I wish I had someone, some better person that I could go date too. 

But there's just her. 

Which seems dangerous. 

I've always thought this. Do I like her so much because she's the only one? 

I don't think yes is any likelier than no. 

Would I still like her if she wasn't nice? That's impossible to answer because then she would be a completely different person. 

Should I go to parties? I hate parties. 

Should I interact with people? I hate being around people. 

Should I talk to strangers on the metro? That just sounds creepy. 

Should I try to be predictable. 

I don't get it. I don't get it. 

I kind of wish I could put this gear away. Let it spin harmlessly in a corner and I can have my sleep back.

(I'm still getting like 7 hours of sleep it's not really that dramatic.)