Human Interaction

I don’t do human interaction.

Even when I chat with my pitiably few friends, I don’t feel genuine. I am shaping my words, fitting myself into tropes and stereotypes of personality / human thought… I always feel like I am acting. On a stage. Even when I am supposedly pouring my hearts out, it feels fake. There is a disconnection. I am talking to other humans but I don’t feel it. Does that mean I have little respect for others? Not that I care… But I do care. I guess adopting an attitude of not caring makes me stronger — and perhaps happier — but also more unhappy. What even does that mean. So anyway, I often say, in our conversations, out of the blue, that I crave human interaction and therefore I am envious of the other person, who interacts more with humans than I do. The response I get out of them is usually: “Am I not human?” And I see their point. I am sorry. But it’s something different I am craving… Is it real-world interaction? Doesn’t quite feel right… Maybe interaction on a different level? But I have no idea how that should be like. All interactions seem staged, dispensable, commonplace… There should be something else, something better. Plato would agree. What we know is but a shadow of the real thing. …I hate hearing strangers talk, talking about this teacher, that test, how their morning was, this internship, that dining hall, bus trips, “fun” events, arguing with others, stuff. None of which would impact the world in anyway if their existence are just wiped out. I want to talk with others about a different set of things, want to hear others talk different. But that seems strange to others. It is something they don’t do. So I am a stranger to strangers. I assume they are afraid of me. I am also afraid of them. A-T Field, hedgehog’s dilemma, I know all that stuff, and knowing a theory like the back of your hand doesn’t help a hoot.

That’s why I don’t associate with most people and only have few friends. I am picky about my social circle. So, that means the people I talk to at least qualify some standard, qualify as “people I can talk to”, and that means something… I sometimes get some satisfaction from talking to them, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I just feel there is something missing… A gap, a hole in my heart. Meaninglessness, it makes me afriad, even though I am avowedly someone who does not look for meaning, for there is no meaning to this world. A voice tells me that it’s all a game to me, a form of entertainment, to trouble myself with these useless things, so that my mind has something to occupy it. Drama, I need drama in my life. There is no point to live otherwise. And I sort of agree with that voice, the voice of another me inside. But sometimes the game gets too real and I feel too affected by all these negative emotions, which I don’t want. I am crippled… It’s hard to live. And I feel fake to the bone just typing these out, human words, human thoughts, on a piece of keyboard, mechanic thing, a laptop, connected to other laptops through the internet, world wide web, there are 70 billion human beings on this planet called Earth and that scares me. I don’t know you.