I’m an overthinker. I overthink about a lot of stuff, a lot of things on a daily basis.

When I was growing up, I used to feel unique. And, you know, everybody is unique. Like snowflakes, no two the same. We’re all individuals in our own right. But we do have certain patterns and characteristics that are common among each other. That’s just something about humanity. I don’t know if it’s a genetic thing, a pattern thing, or if it just has to do with psychology, sociology, whatever the case is. I’ve noticed that, though. As an observer. And I’ve always been an observer, to a fault.

I’ve always been cynical and skeptical, to a fault. The combination of those two things is kind of detrimental, I think, to social standing. I just don’t think that people who are extremely skeptical and highly observant are also socialized in the same way. I think socialites are a lot more blissful. Not as calculated. They live in the moment a lot of the time, and that’s kind of what’s attractive about them, what makes them fun to be around. The energy they have isn’t so serious. It’s not demanding. It’s just not as heavy.

My conflict is that I grew up super goofy, super playful. Not serious at all. I wasn’t the best at telling jokes or making conversation. But I was really good at laughing and being silly. There’s a certain charm to that. Some people gravitate to it, find value in it. But I was never a good conversationalist, never the life of the party type. I liked to be around that type of energy because I was never able to generate it for myself.

Being a cynical skeptic, I was always cool with isolation. I could be alone in a room by myself all day, two or three days out of the week, two weeks at a time, a month at a time. I don’t need social interaction. I know that sounds hard to believe, but it’s true. I almost get anxious when I have to go to events where I know there’s going to be a lot of people, where it’s going to be socially demanding. That’s been true for me since I was young. I remember just not wanting to go out, wanting to stay home, being okay with staying home on my computer playing MMORPGs, or staying home writing in a notebook.

I didn’t read a lot of books, but I wrote a lot and I did a lot of research. I was a Wikipedia maniac. I loved getting on Wikipedia and just reading, or browsing the internet, different articles and web pages. Back when the internet was a lot more fun, when you could discover little nuggets of information and people hosted personal sites way more often. Maybe there are more personal sites now, but they’re not as dedicated. Back then those sites could be a treasure trove, a real source of genuinely good information. I would much rather do that than try to hold a conversation at a party or a gathering.

I was horrible at those things. And even now, in my 30s, I still struggle sometimes. I feel like I’ve gotten a lot better because I know it’s important to foster those relationships, but I do struggle with communication. I almost have a nihilistic view of it. I’ll save that for another essay.

I’m still cynical. Still skeptical. I still question everything and everyone I meet. Anything anyone says to me, there’s going to be an analysis, and I’m not always going to make it known. In fact, I rarely do. I think it’s okay to live in the privacy of your thoughts. In this day and age, I feel like that’s one of the most valuable things we have, given that our privacy is exploited at every turn. Privacy is dead. There is nothing private, and people are so ready and willing to give it up, to give up their thoughts.

I think it’s okay to hold some of those things in.

It took me a while to be able to express my thoughts, not out of fear of being judged, but out of fear that I wouldn’t be understood. That certain things I expressed would be taken out of context or misrepresent me. But I’ve come to terms with that, just recently. And it’s a part of the reason I’m writing this now. I’ve reached the point where I simply don’t care. I simply want to write and produce good literature, and maybe not even for the sake of literature. Maybe just for the sake of writing. For the sake of recording my existence, my consciousness. Transcribing it, producing it, expressing it.

I think that has something to do with meaning.
At least it does for me. And so that’s where I am.