ON BEING RETARDED — The ONE Quality, We **All** Share ;0)

Reflection from October 22nd, 2008 @ Age 27

RE:  WHEN LOVE FLIPS TO HATRED, LIGHT TURNS TO DARKNESS—AND WHAT ONCE WAS BLESSED, FALLS PREY TO AN AGE OLD CURSE.

I don’t think it’s fair of me to say that Dave got to be selfish up until the day that he died, simply because I did not know that Dave—the Dave I knew hasn’t been around for a long long time.  I knew Dave when life was more simple—when there weren’t so many hurdles and roadblocks along every step of the way.  I haven’t known Dave for a long time, and I don’t think it’s therefore fair of me to judge him in his final days.  So I won’t.

I was thinking today that I’m glad Bobby did what he had to do to protect himself from me.  I wasn’t in a place where I could protect him from me, and I’m glad he had the wherewithal to do it for himself.  And while I don’t think it was very nice of him to just pick a day and quit emailing me altogether—he did what he had to do, and I’m thankful for that.

I had to go filing downtown today at the Courthouse, and my social anxiety is as bad as it’s ever been.  I just can’t stand being around all those people—not knowing if I should say “hi,” if I should say “hi [so and so]” or just plain “hi,” if I should just smile like an imbecile or what.  I don’t know why I care so much about social etiquette, but I do.  Prolly because I’m so awful at it—I’m so much more comfortable off on my own.  But then it’s no wonder I’ve been lonely the majority of my life.

Dave was excellent at social etiquette, and I was deficient thereof.  I think that’s part of the reason why it was so hard for me to be around him sometimes.  I always felt I had to hide my insecurity, my imperfection with handling people.  Funny part is, I can be entirely charming some of the time—but it’s impossible to know when and where and how exactly it will strike.  The rest of the time I’m just plain socially retarded.  You know how most guys I’ve ever known (i.e. dated) are emotionally retarded?  Well, here I am and I’m socially retarded.  I guess we’re all retarded in some way or another, aren’t we?

Anyways, I never felt I was good enough for Dave because I was socially retarded (i.e. because I possessed an imperfection).  Perhaps that’s why I hated his mother so—for thinking I wasn’t good enough for him either.  She validated what I most feared.  I just can’t toss this presumption, though—that Dave’s life was perfect.  I think maybe it was perfect, and the only imperfection it had was that it was only to last 24 short years.  Truth is, I never really knew Dave all that well at all.  I believe I knew him in a way that few people ever have and ever will—but when we’re talking about the entirety of Dave, truth is I shut him out of my life and never really had the opportunity to really get to know him. 

It’s funny, the parallel—how Bobby shut me out of his life to protect himself even though he loves me (I believe), because I shut David out of my life to protect myself even though I loved him dearly.  I guess these are the things we sometimes have to do if we want to get on with life and quit ruminating in a hope that will never truly be.  I guess these are the things that make life so goddamn complicated.  How can it truly be that our imperfections are what make us so damn perfect in the first place?  I suppose because it is our imperfections and how we deal with them—that truly defines us in the end. 

I haven’t felt my social anxiety in a long time, but today it brought me home to every other moment I’ve ever felt so before.  It’s funny what the mind remembers when certain body rhythms scream forth from your being.  My social anxiety today brought me home to all my prior struggles with the issue.  I feel defective due to this issue.  There is no drug I can take to handle this issue.  I must find a way to organically handle this issue.  I guess that’s what being an adult is all about anyways.  Trying to figure out different ways of coping so you don’t have to kill yourself when all is said and done.   

Well, I’m rambling now.  I’m never sure if what I have to say is relevant or pertinent—but I suppose I’ll say it either way, and hope for the best in the end.