The thing is, I used to think my desire to hide out from the world and be left alone was some tragic flaw in my wiring. A bug that my creators never managed to work out before they put me on the market.
Now, however, I’ve come to the realization that my desire to lock myself in The House on the Hill’s basement bunker is a survival mechanism, rather than a paralyzing accumulation of phobias and anti-social hankerings.
In other words, I was normal until the world made me this way.
I’m well aware that I used to be a miserable person. I’d be a fool to say I’ve completely shed this persona, but I’ve definitely been on a more positive path lately.
Maybe talking to that therapist after breaking up with The Sweet Irish Girl was a good thing. Perhaps I’ve finally accepted that you get more with honey than you do by bitching about everything and doing absolutely nothing to change the things that drive you mad.
Whatever it is, my newfound view on life, be it through rose colored glasses, or simply through eyes that are no longer blind from rage and self-pity, has made me aware that the world around me is toxic.
Thank goodness I had the interns buy me a gas mask…
I’m just having a problem focusing because I want to be purposely vague so as not to set off another firestorm of rage, hate, and confusion that is sure to drive me even deeper into the basement bunker.
This week was such a positive one until it wasn’t.
I finally found something that made me happy, gave me a sense of purpose, and put a little pep in my step when I got out of bed in the morning.
But as any Modern Philosopher worth his toga can tell you, the good exists only in a very delicate balance with the bad.
When life is good, one must always be prepared for the dark clouds to roll in so that balance can be restored. Whenever there is light, people will be inclined to piss on the flame until the world is plunged into total darkness accompanied by a pungent stench.
Why is it that people don’t like to see others be happy? Are we threatened when we see someone acting unselfishly to spread kindness? Is it in our DNA to crush dreams, snuff out hope, and demean until the human spirit it broken?
Is there a secret society whose only mission is to make sure life sucks and then you die?
These are the sort of questions I have the time to contemplate when I’m all alone in my bunker, safe from inevitable attack from a world gone made with pessimism.
Could it be because we’ve been saddled with a President who says only the worst things that come to mind, and secretly wants us all to believe we are from shit hole countries because his happiness depends on the demoralization of others?
All I know for sure right now is I’m ready to give up on people. I don’t mean to offend any of you, Modern Philosophers, but the only time I can really control the flow of positive vibes, and keep the negativity from crashing the party is by removing myself from the human interaction equation.
Loneliness might ensure sanity.
No man is an island. Then again, what island ever loses sleep tossing and turning as it recounts the events of the day?
Sometimes I fantasize about playing hide and seek, but never coming out from my perfect hiding spot. It’s not the basement bunker, so don’t come looking for me there.
I want to make the world a better place, but there are times it feels like there are 7.6 billion people out there fighting to keep me from succeeding in that quest.
So rather than tilt at windmills, I will vent in blog posts and then concentrate on making sure the walls are soundproof and high enough to keep out the threats to my happiness.