You know what strikes me as odd? I think that I’m sort of … dam­aged. All my life I’ve been so damn dif­fer­ent and I fought against it. Now, I don’t think I’m all that dif­fer­ent any­more but still, there’s a vast gap pre­vent­ing me from con­nect­ing to oth­ers. It’s so sad. How I longed to be like oth­ers are and how much I failed in try­ing to do so. You see, I had a rough child­hood but there were times when I was happy. Some day, how­ever, some­thing changed. I nei­ther know what nor how. It’s more a feel­ing, deep inside. Some kinda sub­con­scious instinct. You know there’s some­thing there but you can’t get a hold of it. You try and try and try again but every time you wanna put your fin­ger on it your fin­ger slips of.

Any­way, I’m seri­ously screwed. Got some­thing you love? Got some­thing you like? Got some­thing you’re proud of? Some­thing you can con­nect with? I don’t. There’s only my love. Only she can reach part­way down into the great hole I’m in. Oth­er­wise, I’m an empty shell totally with­out joy. Instead, I’m full with pain. Doesn’t mat­ter much because it’s sort of damp­ened. Even as I’m writ­ing this I can only feel a faint echo of my loss. I don’t feel mis­er­able, though. I’m not sad­dened as you under­stand it. It’s like there’s a black hole within the very core of my being suck­ing almost every­thing into its void. Seems a some­what dry notion, doesn’t it?

How can I make a liv­ing? Well, it’s not that noth­ing mat­ters to me. It’s just that I don’t feel as deeply or richly as oth­ers do. I really love my girl­friend, though. If you want a metaphor, try this one: This love is like a beau­ti­ful flower in a waste­land. There’s more to it. I’m in bal­ance when I’m with her. You know, that’s one of the most impor­tant things in life. I can reach this point of com­plete bal­ance more often now. The point where pain and hap­pi­ness are build­ing an exquis­ite equi­lib­rium of mind. A secure haven of unlim­ited free­dom and peace of mind. This expe­ri­ence is com­pletely opposed to my non-feeling because peace totally engulfs me in this state. Thus, there’s the ulti­mate ques­tion to ask: Is it worth sac­ri­fic­ing pieces of who you are – to live my life the way I do – in order to get some peace of mind? A silent place where every harm­ful thought is can­celed out by it’s counterpart?

I don’t know. Is that what it means to strive for being a bet­ter man? Is the very sub­stance of my being – the con­struct I am, the con­struct you per­ceive – in dan­ger? What am I doing and to what end? All my life I’ve been so sure of myself and now the care­fully con­structed life lays there before me – a use­less pile of shards. Is that what it means to get stripped of the count­less pro­tec­tions one builds up in the course of his life? What a bur­den this is. I’m feel­ing as if my soul has been laid bare …