I love people. More accurately, the feeling of interacting with people— for it is something that nourishes me. Yet people themselves are such wonderful yet confusing beings— my brain hurts from overanalyzing every detail that I remember about them.
It doesn’t help that I see my small talk skills as inadequate and have turned to interroga– questioning people in order to keep conversations going. A conversation is like a moon in orbit, with either us or a topic serving as an anchor— preventing it from drifting away.
What I don’t like is how much influence people hold over my emotions and how I’m so self-aware of them. It’s like being your own controlling parent smh. But it’s inevitable and I do like being happy. I also like to learn more about other people, that way if I’m doing something for them or have an interaction with them, it’s easier for me to personalize it and know better about them in general.
If I could, I’d probably try to learn about every detail of their lives— I know better and I also wouldn’t be happy if some guy I barely knew tried to pull that off.
So, it’s better to just interrog– ask them questions and then give your answer to your own question in order to breed familiarity and to make it so that they know as many details about you that you know about them…in theory.
Since people are forgetful and for some reason the people that I know become forgetful after I become friends with them. For clarification, this is an unfounded psychological effect and I do not feed them drugs.
I have pulled this off online, which is surely a good indicator if this could actually work in real life. I’ll just use questions to build up a bond with people. Hmm, I think shared trauma is a strong way to build up bonds, so I could just frame questions based on my awesome childhood and then they either share their own trauma or they look at me in pity, keep a mental note of me and then refer me to a counselor. I think the latter possibility is more likely, so let’s stay away from the counselor referral.
I also have to account for people that actually read these ramblings of mine and then proceed to draw links between this account and my actual person. As of the time of me writing this, 2.5 people have a possibility to guess who I am if they are well-versed in formulating conspiracy theories or are just smart.
A number that will grow in time, it is up to me to ensure that the growth of that number remains controlled. I give them my future congratulations from my past that writes this. Since I know that for the time being, there is only one place where I hold less reservations about my writing and would give people the opportunity to know enough about me to guess about me,
A fact that will make it easier for them to figure out my identity will be my actions emulating the thoughts that I have written here, it will be easier for them to guess. While I could ruin this by adding false thoughts in my ramblings, I refuse to do so.
While I am doubtful of anyone figuring it out, I am not going to alter my writing just to ensure that I am never found. I only pray that they do not emulate my habit of overanalyzing everything and delude themselves into thinking that my writing refers to them. They may be a part of my ink, but why would I wield my ink with hostility— it is soon for me to fight another.
It is a guilty pleasure of mine and is one that should never be indulged. The flames of my wrath may cool, yet are like the flames harnessed by the ancient Greeks. The rain of my words will nourish you to the point of immolation— for I only see boundaries as directions for me to attack. I am tired of fighting— for that flame is one that burns its wielder with the same strength of its opponent. My heart has already blackened enough and no longer craves battles like it used to.
Trying to predict future events is like making a frame for a picture before you take it—- to take two steps ahead and pray that you don’t trip on the first step.
Instagram may not give me names, but it definitely gives me the number of those who check my profile and content. So I know that there’s a much higher probability that my earlier train of thought never comes to fruition, which feels like a relief but isn’t— after all, it means that I refuse to share these thoughts with others openly. I’m a masochist with these thoughts at this point or I’m just trying to find a compromise that satisfies my warped self. I’d laugh at myself but I’m too deep into my retrospection for me to be able to do so.
How truly fitting, I have removed my restraints only for my own words to restrain me— chains of my own making, how beautiful and how vexing.
So be it.
Now, where was I? Oh yeah, after that entire “what if people figure my identity” schizophrenic paragraph, I was going to yap some more about how I interact with people.
Now, I did say that I wouldn’t twist my writing— but I never said that I wouldn’t obfuscate or make it harder to avoid making it too easy. If I cannot cover the light, then I will merely bend it as I please.
I’ve always liked to help others out if I had a way and if it wouldn’t be too much trouble. At the same time, I love information so I was originally going to make a GLHS confessional instagram and set everything up to the point of considering partnering with the school to redirect the personal problems of students to a system that can actually make a difference.
Instead, I settled for this since I wouldn’t be able to handle it due to time and resource constraints. This is like my own form of therapy in a way, except that my future is speaking with my past and I’ve begun to refer to myself in 3rd person sometimes for the sake of the narrative.
Another reason why I don’t want to be known for this is because I don’t want to be seen as performative and attention-seeking. If I wanted to be performative, I would just invoke the spirit of Hamilton and defile it by asking chatgpt to turn all of my pieces into a bastardisation of his and just ask it to generate my pieces for me.
For attention-seeking, I could just pick fights with every GLHS student-ran account— surely one of them would bite and my infamy would grow, garnering more attention with a few words.
I do acts of service instead, helping others with their group assignments and just contributing in exchange for me becoming more integrated and becoming more social around them. However, this essentially makes it more like a work relationship when I want it to carry over in my life outside of classes and school. I have already devoted myself to academics since I only have a shadow of a life after school— this being my sole outlet.
I miss having human relationships with those I can actually see and interact with on a day to day basis. But I cannot afford to dwell in my melancholic mood— if I let myself submerge, I may not have the strength to resurface. Yes I feel lonely and like to poke my heart with the perfect songs in order to feel a bit alive.
It’s better than smoking, it’s free and can be done anywhere. It’s not like this is new, I’m just expressing it more instead of letting this be pent-up. I am mentally stable despite my ramblings, don’t worry about that part— I already got it covered.
The military propaganda seems to be ramping up as I continue to get recruiters reels that are just alluring. Honestly, it’s working but I refuse to be seduced by all of those perks. It’s definitely a viable plan B though since their perks would pay for my living and tuition expenses.
I already signed up as an organ donor— jumping from donating my deceased organs to donating my breathing body isn’t that big of a stretch. However, I may be desperate to connect with others, but I’m not desperate enough for me to try to join a country that has removed defense to make room for war. Try again when I’m homeless.
For me, they’re the only way for me to fit in since I cringe at myself when I take a wrong step— forget interacting with people who are strangers to me for the time being since I may just die from my mind exploding in awkwardness.
I love people like my love for humanity— trusting easily yet wearing a heart-guard. I trust people the same way I guard against them; yet another contradiction that enwraps my heart.
My intentions are pure yet multifaceted– orbiting these actions of mine.
Alright, I seem to have written more than my reflection. Interesting how those feelings that I initially dismissed as small gave so much energy when they were burnt for this.
For those who reached the end of one of my pieces legitimately, I’m proud of y’all. I doubt that there’s anyone for the time being. Then again I am the past who is writing for the future to read.