Resting above the water

(Copyrights belong to me - Old, old, really old photos of a place that exists no longer in anywhere else than in my memories) 

(Copyrights belong to me) 

I've been thinking about my relationship with the rest of the human-race and I still cannot help but to feel like an outsider.

This is one of the things that never stops bothering me. And I keep wondering am I the only one who feels this way, that is it normal or not.

And one of the reasons why I'm writing about this, again, is that I'm trying to make sense of this feeling. I can't understand the way people think, I am the one who likes things other people don't seem to like and in TV-shows and movies I am constantly puzzled by people's actions and motives. Real life puzzles me too, of course, but I am not in contact with many real-life people who puzzle me as much, maybe because I am used to those people. New people though never get even close enough for me to get used to. And the old relationships have never been made by my own effort. All the relationships have either been there by relation of blood or people have come to me thus making it easier for me to form bonds with them. But for years I've felt uninterested in forming any new relationships. There was a time when I thought that having new friends might be a good idea, especially when the old ones have been actively scattered all over the country and I am more and more by myself. Yet until the past few years I've finally grown used to it. I am used to being by myself and now I feel more than ever that I don't need any new people in my life. Just the thought exhaust's me. But I wouldn't mind a chance to stay in contact with the old friends and family-members. Something that hasn't been going quite as well as I've hoped.

There are things that I can't seem to understand no matter how much I try. Like the lack of empathy, some kind of sensitive instinct, compassion that really many seem to lack. Even the people I like can seem to have only half-empathy, half-sensitivity. Especially when I was really depressed my mind could not block any suffering out, I was consuming it all around me to the point where I felt I was going to break. And I admit that at couple occasions I complained to my ex for not having much sensitivity, which I understand now is something that only few people among thousands seem to have. But that sensitivity, the quality of it, also makes you vulnerable to suffering, depression and suicidal thoughts. You're ready to give up on the humanity and you need to be really stubborn - or masochist or both - to survive.

And another thing that could be a matter of empathy and sensitivity is loyalty in romantic relationships. Something I can't understand is cheating. I can make some sense of it when I think about it as one of the animalistic sides of human-nature but still it is really odd. If you are in a relationship, and you act like you're in love, why do you cheat? I've never been in that situation though my ex did something similar. It seems that cheaters are always cheaters and that they don't seem to care about the impact of their actions, which seems selfish and sociopath-behaviour. It is like they feel they are entitled to cheat and they cannot understand why the cheated is so enraged and hurt. And for them the lies seem to be no big deal or they don't consider themselves as liars. My ex was a trickster when she tricked me into thinking that she loved me. And when she got bored with me, especially when things got tough, she discarded me as easily as anyone who simply doesn't care - as she did not care. It was emotional cheating in some way. It included lying, emotional tormenting (kind of like "if you're like that or not like that I will leave you") and she never felt she did anything wrong. But all that opened my eyes to reality, that I had not known her at all. There was a side she kept hidden, a side she probably didn't think as any big deal, and when I saw that, I knew there was absolutely nothing I could do. You can't do anything if you're faced with the reality that the person you're with is not who you think. It is almost like you were looking at a cover of a person, and underneath it was the actual person who revealed themselves when they cheat and get caught in a lie. But it confuses me deeply since I can't make any sense of that kind of behaviour. Usually people know when they are acting harmful or cause pain. But there are people who just don't seem to see that in themselves. They just do what they want and chuck up the wreckage they leave behind as something they didn't do or didn't have any say nor responsibility in it.

But it is fascinating in some way. Although I can never forgive nor forget, as it seems, there's some odd satisfaction at times to poke at the old scar-tissue wounds until they start to bleed again. It's been over a year and I'm soon going back to the "crime-scene" yet I am terrified of seeing that person. It's a big city, but not big enough. I wonder how I am going to react going back there. Thinking about it terrifies me a bit. I probably can't go to the places I used to, since the memories are still too vivid and I don't want to dwell in them.

(Copyrights belong to me)

(Copyrights belong to me)

(Copyrights belong to me)

And here I am, still looking at houses for sale, hoping to get a chance to buy a place of my own. This feeling comes and goes, but it exists strongly in me. Most likely because I have no reason for life and not much to expect from the future so playing video-games and watching movies doesn't grant me enough fulfillment for my time. My own house might add more to my time, which seems to be the only thing I can do now; spend time doing something I enjoy. There are no schools, no fulfilling job-careers, no money to travel the world and no romantic relationships so all I have is time.