Existential meanderings: To surrender one's singularity to mind-numbing conformity*
Marked personal.Reader's discretion advised.
*My first thought was to call this article "Somewhere between Solitude and Company". When I googled that, I stumbled upon an article titled Somewhere between Solitude and Loneliness, wherein I came across the phrase that is presently the title. It captured succinctly and beautifully everything I'd planned to write about, and I could not have thought of a better title myself. However, it is not my own, and therefore, I duly attribute it to Edgar Allan Poe, who is originally supposed to have voiced this idea and/or the multitude of people who might have paraphrased him this way.(Can't figure out if this was a Poe original or a good paraphrasing,hence the ambiguous credits!)
Sigh! Where do I begin? It has been a nightmarish week, and even that would be an understatement. Somehow, these individually insignificant(and I'm being really really generous when I say insignificant) incidents of my life coalesced into a gigantic fireball of pain,confusion and sadness. It hit me like a wave of fury and took away everything I had. The sand my toes were clutching at--my secure and happy reality--was a thing of the past. Worse still, it made me question my reality^.Had it ever been the way I'd seen it all this while? Sand was sand,you know--it's meant to slip away with the waves. How delusional would you be if you thought that sand was stable! (^Quoting Dolores from Westworld:Have you ever questioned the nature of your reality?)
Around 4 years ago, I was this eccentric introvert. I was also what you'd call borderline asocial. Although I had really close friends,they were not many in number.You could easily count them on one hand. I hadn't ever been to a movie,mall,restaurant,pizza place or even a wedding. What's more, I wasn't even interested.If you asked me to go with you to any of these places, the answer would be a resounding no. I was a proper bookworm who averaged 50 books per year(fiction,before you assume otherwise). I was also given to sporadic bursts of enthusiastic writing.A music lover who both listened to songs and sang regularly. Essentially, I made good use of my time. I was also happy. I was me. Maybe I didn't belong in this world, but I was content being an outlier. I did not want the "normal" stuff.
Somewhere down the line,I made really good friends.As a consequence of that, I softened these harsh edges of myself. I made a few exceptions and went to the occasional wedding,watched the shows friends recommended and even hung out with them on a regular basis. I did all of this not because I'd changed or because I truly enjoyed being at these places,but just because I cared enough about people. They were good friends to me, and I wanted to be nothing less. It seemed too selfish to say no to people all the time, and I figured I could give them that much of myself.
This happened so gradually and cumulatively that I almost didn't notice. 4 years later, in the present day world,I find myself far less eccentric than I used to be. More of a people's person, because I really do care.I wouldn't qualify as an extrovert, but I'm definitely not an introvert now. An ambivert would be appropriate. I still read and write, but I struggle to find time,because family and friends come first. Ditto for all the other things I used to do. They have been relegated to a dusty undignified corner because I prioritize the people in my life. I was not unhappy, because these changes that I made to my life weren't forced, they were my own decisions. And it felt good to belong, to know that somewhere in this wide and largely bewildering world, there exist a few people who you matter to.
Somehow, this picture of my reality fell apart to figurative smithereens.It felt like an elaborate social charade that I put on everyday to please people. Like an uncomfortably itchy sweater. Like a mask that effortlessly peeled away,forcing me to confront all that I'd been in denial about.Coz who am I kidding? I still feel claustrophobic in that wedding. I have no interest in roaming around the streets shopping or whatever else. I feel like a trapped alien in a mall. I endure all of that, just because the I find the company of the people I'm with happy and comforting. The rest I consider as suitable price for that.
Today, I ask of you, Dear Reader,is it really worth it? To surrender your singularity to mind-numbing conformity. In exchange for company, you trade away your individuality---is that ever a fair deal? You could tell me that a few alterations don't really matter in the big picture; but having been there myself,I can assure you that it's a slippery slope. It starts with one,two and then,a few;pretty soon stranger in the mirror is what you're left with.
I'm tired of all this--I want solitude and a dozen books to devour.Nothing more,nothing less.I don't truly belong and I'm tired of trying to.It has never made sense,and it probably never will. But then,why does it have to? Fish out of water,they say. Maybe it wasn't meant to be in water in the first place. If you happen to be one of my friends who's reading this, please accept my apologies.I don't feel like talking much right now and I really crave a bout of uninterrupted solitude.I think I should give myself that.I don't know how long it'll last---it could be just a day or maybe as much as a month. Pardon me if I go AWOL for a while. It's nothing personal, just a nuclear fallout of the cumulative socializing of years:)
*My first thought was to call this article "Somewhere between Solitude and Company". When I googled that, I stumbled upon an article titled Somewhere between Solitude and Loneliness, wherein I came across the phrase that is presently the title. It captured succinctly and beautifully everything I'd planned to write about, and I could not have thought of a better title myself. However, it is not my own, and therefore, I duly attribute it to Edgar Allan Poe, who is originally supposed to have voiced this idea and/or the multitude of people who might have paraphrased him this way.(Can't figure out if this was a Poe original or a good paraphrasing,hence the ambiguous credits!)
Sigh! Where do I begin? It has been a nightmarish week, and even that would be an understatement. Somehow, these individually insignificant(and I'm being really really generous when I say insignificant) incidents of my life coalesced into a gigantic fireball of pain,confusion and sadness. It hit me like a wave of fury and took away everything I had. The sand my toes were clutching at--my secure and happy reality--was a thing of the past. Worse still, it made me question my reality^.Had it ever been the way I'd seen it all this while? Sand was sand,you know--it's meant to slip away with the waves. How delusional would you be if you thought that sand was stable! (^Quoting Dolores from Westworld:Have you ever questioned the nature of your reality?)
Around 4 years ago, I was this eccentric introvert. I was also what you'd call borderline asocial. Although I had really close friends,they were not many in number.You could easily count them on one hand. I hadn't ever been to a movie,mall,restaurant,pizza place or even a wedding. What's more, I wasn't even interested.If you asked me to go with you to any of these places, the answer would be a resounding no. I was a proper bookworm who averaged 50 books per year(fiction,before you assume otherwise). I was also given to sporadic bursts of enthusiastic writing.A music lover who both listened to songs and sang regularly. Essentially, I made good use of my time. I was also happy. I was me. Maybe I didn't belong in this world, but I was content being an outlier. I did not want the "normal" stuff.
Somewhere down the line,I made really good friends.As a consequence of that, I softened these harsh edges of myself. I made a few exceptions and went to the occasional wedding,watched the shows friends recommended and even hung out with them on a regular basis. I did all of this not because I'd changed or because I truly enjoyed being at these places,but just because I cared enough about people. They were good friends to me, and I wanted to be nothing less. It seemed too selfish to say no to people all the time, and I figured I could give them that much of myself.
This happened so gradually and cumulatively that I almost didn't notice. 4 years later, in the present day world,I find myself far less eccentric than I used to be. More of a people's person, because I really do care.I wouldn't qualify as an extrovert, but I'm definitely not an introvert now. An ambivert would be appropriate. I still read and write, but I struggle to find time,because family and friends come first. Ditto for all the other things I used to do. They have been relegated to a dusty undignified corner because I prioritize the people in my life. I was not unhappy, because these changes that I made to my life weren't forced, they were my own decisions. And it felt good to belong, to know that somewhere in this wide and largely bewildering world, there exist a few people who you matter to.
Somehow, this picture of my reality fell apart to figurative smithereens.It felt like an elaborate social charade that I put on everyday to please people. Like an uncomfortably itchy sweater. Like a mask that effortlessly peeled away,forcing me to confront all that I'd been in denial about.Coz who am I kidding? I still feel claustrophobic in that wedding. I have no interest in roaming around the streets shopping or whatever else. I feel like a trapped alien in a mall. I endure all of that, just because the I find the company of the people I'm with happy and comforting. The rest I consider as suitable price for that.
Today, I ask of you, Dear Reader,is it really worth it? To surrender your singularity to mind-numbing conformity. In exchange for company, you trade away your individuality---is that ever a fair deal? You could tell me that a few alterations don't really matter in the big picture; but having been there myself,I can assure you that it's a slippery slope. It starts with one,two and then,a few;pretty soon stranger in the mirror is what you're left with.
I'm tired of all this--I want solitude and a dozen books to devour.Nothing more,nothing less.I don't truly belong and I'm tired of trying to.It has never made sense,and it probably never will. But then,why does it have to? Fish out of water,they say. Maybe it wasn't meant to be in water in the first place. If you happen to be one of my friends who's reading this, please accept my apologies.I don't feel like talking much right now and I really crave a bout of uninterrupted solitude.I think I should give myself that.I don't know how long it'll last---it could be just a day or maybe as much as a month. Pardon me if I go AWOL for a while. It's nothing personal, just a nuclear fallout of the cumulative socializing of years:)
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