There are times in life that even when constantly busy and surrounded by people, I can never get over the feeling of boredom and loneliness. I look for the next activity, the next friend, the next relationship to cultivate, the next everything as long as it’s new and offers the potential to mean something.
I always thought being smart, like extraordinarily smart, along with empathetic and ambitious was the recipe to make a difference in the world and therefore be a source of all happiness… I worked and work towards being those things, because who doesn’t want “all happiness.” I never thought about how much fear and isolation was involved in the reality of my pursuit of difference as a personal form of happiness.
In a social setting, a woman like me paves the way for a very lonely existence. I bore most people with talk of things they don’t understand or don’t view passionately and most people bore me with topics I’ve contemplated a thousand times and I derive no challenge or excitement from.
Most people usually can’t relate or find me to be too intense especially when my distain for small talk kicks in. When dating I found pretty quickly that men, even intelligent men, tend to find me to be too intimidating to get to know or they do stick around and they’re not willing to deal with the cons that come with my pros. I realize I am flawed; some would even say a pain in the ass. I also I realize my perception may or may not be factual, but it doesn’t change my reality.
Anyway, I’ve gotten very good at playing social games. I can seek entertainment with shallow friendships and events, and I can definitely keep myself busy with those things… but I find in attempt to stay busy with what is easily available to me socially, I only make my desire to experience genuine connections deeper.
My motto in life has very quickly become “I don’t want to be loved, I want to be understood.” Even in my current relationship, with someone I feel understands me better than most, just the implication that he doesn’t in the smallest facets of my character is enough to make me feel very alone even in the midst of the most intimate moments.
I want someone to understand my passions, what makes me tick, what I want to be in this world, and the differences I want to make. That’s what excites me, that’s what makes me feel loved, and THAT is a lot to ask for.
I love when brains, science, and people combine. I love travel and the feeling of experiencing a world I’ve never seen, I love the beautiful things in life, and I love the arts and humanities. I love how intensely I feel everything and the rush of talking about something that inspires me. I love attention and being admired for the things that matter to me. Mostly I love being appreciated for the intricate parts of my being I feel only I can see, so much so that it is my truest and deepest definition of intimacy.
I ache to see change in the social injustices that doom people to a life of poverty, mental illness, illiteracy, and an overall poor quality of life. I am often overwhelmed with my ideas of how to make change, and the negative feelings associated with the reality check that I will not be able to do it all.
I used to fear relatively normal things like death or never finding someone to love. But now I fear normalcy. I fear settling for shallow encounter after shallow encounter in the hopes of belonging. I fear shooting for the moon and landing on my ass. I fear dying in a world where I had no impact. Mostly, I fear having children with no legacy to leave them, so much so, that despite this intense longing to someday be a mother, I don’t think I’ll even try to get pregnant until I can see a feasible path to the aforementioned legacy…a path that may never be paved, terrifying.
I’ve spent months pursuing a life that has that has brought me eye to eye with idea of my fears becoming my reality. I’ve felt myself settling and even aspiring to shallow, easily accessible experiences that offer less chance of failure. I have learned to avoid conversations that sound anything like what I’ve just written because it leaves so much room for me to be misunderstood in my pursuit of the opposite.
I suppose I may never be understood and I may never understand. I’m starting to realize that the right thing to do is to get so lost in the pursuit of my passions that I stop falling into the trap of focusing so intently on my perception of feeling alone. The reality is, those feelings are just that, a perception, and I have far too much shit I want to do to let them stand in the way of my reality.