Reflections on My Self

I don't even know what to think anymore. To be honest, half the time it feels like I fight a losing battle. I've opened up in more ways than one, and yet, I feel like I know myself even less than I used to. These friends I've made have been great to have, but they've brought in me the desire to challenge those things which have long been established.

In my mind, there's already a conflict between two warring sides. One part wants me to open up further—to explore and set out and test those boundaries which have long been in place for me—in the hope that I might become a different (and better) person. Another part argues that I have my own distinct way of doing things, and that while I could open up slightly, that I can't open up too much, or else, I might risk losing everything that I've gained and tie myself to other people, bringing them down with me.

These two parts fight with each other. At times, the more open part wins. Other times, the more closed past wins, and I am placed in the middle.

Matters aren't really helped either by the fact that I don't like myself much. Others might view positive attributes in me, and though I might have those positive attributes, I can't accept them being part of me. Fundamentally, I dislike myself in more ways than one. Physically and mentally, I wish I were different, and the emotions of a solitary man are those which make it hard for me to share this.

I personally don't feel that saying these things out loud would help me much. I'd lose courage, and people would judge me. Through paper at least, I have a way of releasing my emotions in a way where I won't be judged. Paper won't judge me, and that makes me feel more comfortable.

Part of me feels like giving up and withdrawing inward. In many ways, I feel that I haven' been the best person to others, and even among those whom I have become friends with, I don't feel like I have really helped them much.

Honestly, I find it interesting that anyone would want to be friends with me. Why bother indeed when there are other people?

That is a question I ask myself, and though other people see good things in me, I can't quite see them completely.

I know some might argue that I'm moping, and perhaps they're right, but these are emotions that pervade my own self. The duality I bear between the two warring minds and their desire to influence me affects me in more ways than one.

For better or worse, that duality is a part of me. I'll never be able to get rid of it, but at the same time, something has to change—something has to give—for the better.

I don't want to despair and die. The thought of suicide has entered my mind, but I don't want to do it. I don't want to merely remain ensconced in my room forever. I don't want to just leave early, but I'm unsure of what to do.

I've been told that I have talents, and I indeed might have them, but I have nary a clue as to what I'm going to do with them.

Time is of the essence. It flows by quickly, like a crashing wave at high tide, and yet, I'm indifferent. I don't particularly care about the things I do or where my life might take me. I really like certain things, but others are things which I merely do either cause I have to do them or cause there's some kind of long-term gain out of it.

But wait a minute, you might ask: why not just tell your family about what you feel?

Well, I don't really like my family that much or have enough confidence in them to tell them all of these things since I'm unsure of how they'd react. Except for maybe my mom, I don't really feel confident enough to share this sort of stuff with them.

Now, it's not like they've really abused me or anything, but their interactions, their ways of doing things, and their culture just make me reluctant to express any of these things to them. My mom and grandparents have been pretty understanding about this whole Asperger's thing I have, but even then, I don't completely like them. Don't get me wrong: I do love them, but I don't particularly care for them. If that makes me callous and cold, that could be true, but I don't see a whole lot which I could gain out of them in the long run.

I depend on them, I rely on them for a great deal many things, and yet, I resent their over-bearing influence and long for the day where I might leave them. I get annoyed, for many in my family, like my dad and aunt, though they may mean well, do not fully understand me.

They then are like “We give you everything you want yet you don't treat us well. You're incredibly spoiled.”

To be fair, part of that is true. As an only child, I've never had to worry about getting attention, since it's always been focused on me. I've also never had to worry about sharing stuff. However, the downside is that most of my interactions were with adults, and that I lacked relationship with someone of my age. Perhaps I might have been better off having had a sibling. On the other hand, perhaps I might not have been better off having a sibling. It's hard to really say since I can't peer into hypotheticals, but I digress.

Anyway, I don't really care for the things I get. They're certainly nice and I enjoy them, but I want other things out of them that they can't give me, such as their full understanding.

For better or worse, I know I have to deal with a cultural lens and a familial relationship which I'll never be completely at ease with. That doesn't mean I like that, nor does it mean that I feel an obligation owed to them.

Assuming I live to such a point where my parents would be of old age, I'd either have them with me or place them in a nursing home. Either way, and this is another sign of my resigned attitude, I don't care.

As for my grandparents, though I love them, I don't particularly care for them that much either. They'll die at some point, and while I might be a little sad, I wouldn't be particularly concerned either. It's a part of life, and though we all hate it, we all must die at some point. I will die. You, reader, will die, and that is my mentality. It's rather macabre, I know, but if it hasn't been already made apparent to you, I'm not the most optimistic person around.

Optimism, at least to me, is a dead letter. For me at least, with the exception of one or two things which I am really interested in, I lean towards pessimism. My optimism died a long while back, and pessimism just proves more rewarding since at learn never to except anything good out of most people. I get spared from disappointment and I move on through life, though this perhaps has its disadvantages.

At the very least, I am spared from getting disappointed, but my happiness also proves to be fleeting and momentary.

Maybe I ought to change that. Then again, never mind. The life we live is full of darkness and full of light. The darkness that I like, the humor derived from it, and all the things of my self which lean towards darkness, come because of my viewpoint that light is unrealistic in its totality.

A bleak darkness is more what I think is normal and to be expected. At least with a bleak darkness, you know what to expect. With a light, sunny day, the weather and things could suddenly turn upon you, and that is something which I dislike.

Predictability and routine are two things which I like due to be fact that I know what to expect and can prepare myself for it. I myself feel a sense that of a desire to regulate my life. I schedule myself since I am my own worst judge.

After all, if I already am not fond of myself, why would I want to give myself leeway? I've failed myself, I've failed others, I've failed the life I live, and yet, in spite of all these things, I've been given a ton of things which others would long to have. And yet, in spite of all this, I still remain unhappy.

How that will be solved, I again, much as I have stated and much as my own mind has made clear, am not the best person to judge. I am flawed, and while I can shape my own path, that would be giving me too much credit. Perhaps I might see a light appear, but that is incredibly doubtful. Most likely, darkness will continue to cloud me unless something happens to make those clouds and darkness fade away. There's a lot to think about. There's a lot to see.

Things will come. Things will go. Life proceeds in more ways than one.

As time fades, the channels of evanescent light seemingly strengthen even as darkness maintains itself, ready to overtake the light. Which will win has yet to be determined. I know, however, that I would likely be a really terrible judge of that.

Closing statements can be done in the prose which I've done in the rest of this, or they could be done in a different way. I want to do it a different way—a way that I could possibly know—and a way that you might like.

The mind is powerful
In more ways than one
It determines what the person believes
It determines what the person holds dear
And it determines what the person will do

The mind is a weapon
Whoever bears and controls it
Has already won half the battle of existence
The two sides of the mind go in different ways
One goes one way, the other goes a different way

Yet both form part of one same mind
Humanity has a gifted mind
No other being has a mind like the one we have
The mind is both friend and foe
Tool and broken glass

The mind has given a great deal of knowledge
And has led to inventions that have changed the world
And yet, it's also led to war, hate, destruction, and loss

My mind is not alone
There's one mind that I have
And others have minds of their own

I don't know what my mind will be like
I don't know how complete my control will be over it

However, if I can bring my mind to heel
And harness it to be an aid
I can strengthen myself
While at the same time
Prepare myself to better face
Those challenges and obstacles
That lay ahead