Man, this was a restful week, but shit, it’s back on the grind starting Monday afternoon.
I’ve decided to turn over a new leaf. Start cooking more, clean my apartment more than once a decade, eat a bit healthier, paint more… I think I’ve just hit the point of boredom with most things.
For example, I have like 50 Xbox 360 games, almost all of which I’ve beaten, and I don’t feel the need to play them. Why? Because I get bored once I’ve done everything. People don’t realize that when I play a game, it’s all I play for however long it takes to beat it. I manage my time wisely, sometimes spending days just working on stuff. I beat Mass Effect 3 in 35 hours and did EVERYTHING (even though the ending was balls). Way back when, I beat Oblivion, getting every single item, completing every single quest, doing every single task. That was 120 hours, but worth it.
I just seem to be finding myself more inclined to spend my time doing more meaningful things. I would love to hang out with my friends more, but my insecurities towards calling people is a problem. In the past, I was rejected every time I tried to hang out, save for maybe a few willing souls. Over time, that fear only grew, to the point of near alienation, and personal isolation from everyone. I fear that no one really likes my company, that all I do is talk about me, and about my problems… It’s unnerving. I wish I didn’t think the way I did, or talk the way I did, if only so that I could feel more at peace with my compatriots, but alas, this is not to be. I am a strange beast. I have had too much experience in too short a time. My mind is overloaded by the madness surrounding me, just trying to keep myself in a stable state to do what is necessary.
I’ve tried not to talk about my Asperger’s too much anymore, or bring it up, but even that tends to slip out. For those unaware, Asperger’s is a form of Autism dealing with social cues. I am on the very edge of the spectrum, as I usually have no trouble whatsoever communicating with others, or interpreting things the right way. For years though, my father, he always introduced me with this ‘condition’, hindering me from having any real conversation, and using it as an excuse for my most basic of thoughts and actions. Though I am well aware of all this, I am still having trouble assimilating to this new facet of my existence; acceptance.
You see, I am accepting of everything except for myself. I always think I can do better, to the point of pushing myself so hard that even my own mother tells me to stop it. I cannot help it. I don’t want to be #2, I want to be #1, and that requires sacrifice, WILLING sacrifice. If I don’t put in the required effort, I feel doomed, a failure, and near suicidal. I take everything I do professionally VERY SERIOUSLY. When I have a failure, it compromises how I feel about myself, knocking down my ideals on the pedestal. It’s excruciating that I do this to myself, but my willingness to just give in is more disturbing to say the least.
The constant, looming on my mind, though one that I wish were not so, is a companion in the romantic sense. I constantly complain of loneliness, though I am the one who puts myself in this position. I wish that it were so easy for me to just come out of my shell, but I can’t do it. I have to be forced. My other problem is making a move. I don’t know how, and I don’t know what I need to do. I clam up. I get nervous. Not to mention I look like a trainwreck sometimes. I wish my High School experience was more of a learning period than just a cavalcade of shit, and the inability to have any kind of experience before I hit adulthood has definitely crippled me in this respect. I feel pathetic, pathetic sometimes to the point of crying myself to sleep. My virility is nothing, except a burden I release with my hand. It’s definitely not up to standards.
This all being said, I suppose I cannot complain too much about the state of my life. I am definitely the happiest I have been in a while, but it’s strange that such boredom is the catalyst for change. I don’t know… Maybe it’s something else I can’t see? I can see quite a bit, for self-awareness is a bitch, but no one really tells me what they can see… I never get a clear answer as to why anyone likes me, or wants to read my rants, or even cares to support me. It’s really a mystery, despite how pretentious and oblivious that makes me sound. It’s true.
At this point in the journey, as always, transitions are occurring. I don’t know where I’m going to go from here, but the ever constant of forward movement remains intact.
Proceed with Caution.