"The problem of the outsider is the he sees too deeply, and too much, but what he sees is essentially chaos"
-Colin Wilson, The Outsider
I've remembered that quote for most of my life, having read that book when I was about 15, but I don't really think it means anything. I like it, for saying something almost good, something poetically validating, about how I've always felt. It was a book that I'd hoped would hold some sort of answers, but like so much else I've read, no such luck.
Something in me changed, as I grew up. I'd always had issues making friends, but it seems that as I got older, it became more and more difficult. With each friendship lost, weakening some internal connection. Something in me, weak to begin with, that eventually just broke. Romantic relationships seem to operate differently. Immediate family seems to work ok, but lately, I've been failing to keep in touch with even them.
I don't know what to say to anyone. I don't know what that even means exactly, it's just what comes to mind, when I think about contacting anyone. It's always been difficult to explain to people who try to assure me that it's ok if I don't say anything. It goes deeper than that. I'm not just shy, it doesn't help to hear it's ok to be quiet. I don't just need people to be friendly towards me. Being social doesn't accomplish its psychological purpose for me, and I don't know what to do about it.
Something to do with trust, a feeling of belonging. Affinity. We are all human, and for some of us, that's enough. For better or worse, others are more discriminating. Maybe prejudices end in -phobia, for a similar sort of reason. Who in this world do we trust? This is a question that divides people in so many different ways. I wonder if this is anything like the real culprit in my growing sense of isolation. I don't trust anyone. Something in me just doesn't click the way it should. Society's never made any damn sense to me. Part of me would like to think it's because I see too deeply and too much, but yeah, that's probably nonsense.
I've been saying, "as I get older," a lot, lately. Something about aging has been nagging at me. A growing sense of anxiety about where it's all going.
Despite being such an introvert, and spending so much of my life alone, I am not an individualist. I believe in community, maybe it's even an instinct, a genetic tendency that varies between types of people, but I deeply believe in people working together, in being a part of society in some way. I believe it goes to the core of what makes us human, what's carried us all the way from the stone age to this place, where I can blog alongside hundreds of millions of other people. Just another wandering nobody, along the side of this information superhighway.
I still feel like I'm drifting farther away from everyone I've ever known. Not to leave out Jenny, we've got each other, of course.. but aside from each other, I'm feeling like we're growing dangerously alone. It doesn't seem to bother Jenny as much, I think maybe because she has work, but still, between the two of us, we don't even have an acquaintance to feed our cats, when we go out of town. This isn't the way life is supposed to be.
I've also realized why Hwa Rang Do was so beneficial to me. For more than just the obvious reasons. It feels like I've had this gaping hole in my life, since I left Minneapolis, but trying classes here didn't work out. It didn't do the same thing for me. I didn't feel like I was a part of anything.
I always felt like I was at the fringes there, not quite capable of joining in as much as I'd wanted to, but it was still feeding into this basic need, for a feeling of community. It felt a bit like a bike with training wheels, in that respect. I was allowed a lot of freedom to wobble, but despite my social ineptitude, always welcome to every class. At first, my sister even held the bike for me until I could ride on my own.
My little sister. I am more grateful for that, than I even know how to say. It's been the only way I've felt involved with anything, since I was a kid.