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30 June 2014 @ 05:00 pm
183: Symphony with Cacophony  
My life in the past three months after I turned twenty-four years old has revolved around three geek things: (1) Batman comic book reading and reviewing, (2) Tell 'Em Steve Dave podcast listening (I finally reached the 50th episode, thank fuck), and (3) watching anime abridged parodies here and there while also consuming genre-specific (Asian horror) or actor-specific (Michael Fassbender and James McAvoy) movies. Anything else between would be fanfiction writing, fanvid-making and fanmix-selecting. That's the scope of my life right now and it's widely occupied by such nerdy inclinations and habits that it's no surprise that I manage to stay happily single yet stressfully geek-oriented.

"Happily single" is such a defensively ambiguous term, isn't it? The goal in life is not the pursuit of happiness because it's probably the most flaky and intangible of all virtues so I really must not appropriate that as an acceptable adverb to the adjective 'single' which, in this context, happens to be a painfully constant noun that lacks any kind of progress as much as it is a deliberate choice for my current state of being. Everyone is single or singular, when you think about it. We're all individuals with complex desires and feelings but a vast majority of us would rather disappear in the tempting allure yet ultimately disillusioned appeal of social relationships. We don't own up to our singularity as readily as we give ourselves and invest our time on people who probably don't even truly understand what we require and deserve. Our hungers for companionship run too deep to be ignored and denied for long that any sort of availability is a welcome change that can possibly drown out how much self-loathing we have to deal with whenever we are in isolation. I consider myself an expert in solitude, in finding content and clarity by being alone. The occasional pangs of loneliness do prick me every now and then but I've developed the best defense for this intrusion that it hardly raises any red flags when it happens. I display my strength by enduring the self-imposed solitude with the certainty that it will be for my own good in the long run. I don't need to be with other people to feel like I still matter. My hunger for that has been sustained enough by my preoccupations with art, literature and music.

But I do admit that they only serve as compensations--effective substitutes they may be--for the human contact I crave and wish to have fulfilled. But I would not give in as hastily as most people do because I've learned that my desires and needs are even more complex than I would care to admit sometimes. They're also often schizophrenic, trapped between being a self-inflicted pain and a hedonistic pleasure outlet. I don't know what I ultimately want to have in a stable, secure and loving relationship, and if I even have the means or the correct state of mind to go for it. But I want deeply so to be adored and taken care of as long as it doesn't invalidate my autonomy and independence. And that's the problem, I believe. I take everything with a conditional quotient. Everything needs to be a negotiation. Every relationship a transaction that must meet my needs extensively and in great detail.

I will never be happy because I don't aspire for it. I will never be in a relationship because I simply cannot give myself fully to another human being. And this grim reality only worries me whenever I see time and time again that I have so much more to offer that it's quite disheartening that a person of my worth, passion and confidence cannot seem to find anyone who is just as worthy, passionate and confident. That's the burden I must endure for now, I suppose. And I feel good about the weight. It rests on my shoulders with an overwhelming magnitude but it doesn't scare me.

Some days, I could even believe I can fly...
 
 
Feeling: amusedamused
Listening to: "Drumming" by Florence + The Machine