unfamiliar with unfamiliarity

i’m no trailblazing pioneer for the american people. adventure, more often than not, arouses more anxiety than excitement. while i savor the beautiful moments when i’m there, the stress of leaving home, where i could walk around blind, rises in my throat and chokes off any encouragement. similarly, there are routines i’ve formed within the household that keep me close to my goals: working out, creating music, writing, and yeah, skateboarding. depressingly enough, i can’t wholly pack those uplifting, purpose-driven habits into the trunk. so in preparation for a trip, i’m ripped away from my network of optimistic achievements.

while i’m limited in the mass of volume i can trek with, there are more portable forms of mind and body exercises. i can pack workout clothes, a journal, an iPad, and a skateboard pretty compactly.

i must quickly divulge that this stripped-down approach to my passions is exhilarating to perform. i long to embody the minimalist viewpoint, but it’s extremely difficult to let items go, especially gifts from other people. i’m privileged enough to amass a collection over the years. so despite the turbulence from exiting my day-to-day workplace, there are advantages, like living in a way i can’t force myself to do naturally. but how does this unfold when people get involved?

breathing, porous organisms as freakishly built as me (humans have a very distinct, strange look) add an entirely different element to this puzzling distortion. if the objective of departure is to see anything other than a human for the sake of conversation, like art, music, entertainment, or sports, then it’s almost effortless for me to engage and tune in to the mission at hand.

add us into the recipe and the coloring shifts. social anxiety pokes its head out of its cave, smells the tang of competition, and snaps into a predatory fix. aren’t pittings against others why i fear them? i indeed find myself throwing on extra weights of pressure to perform exemplary.

we probably all due this to some degree. it’s gratifying to put your best foot first. but that’s not what this is. i’m not exemplifying my highest traits while maintaining a selfless character. i’m dispatching drones, collecting surveillance, and subsequently adjusting my demeanor, in real time, to present a hypothesis of a person centered around the interests of the group around them. i proffer my pride in exchange for a favorable evaluation of a fake persona from an unsuspecting judge. would you want to leave your bed if it meant going out as a ghost while your limp personality hung in your closet?

i’m conflicted trying to dig to the roots of this travesty. like a paleantologist, this post slowly brushes away the grit and dirt protecting a prehistoric core value. not every processor i run on is correctly programmed, which is why i’m attempting to diagnose the faulty betrayals and set a course for treatment.

the answer’s obvious, isn’t it? “just be yourself”. “people want to know the real you”. “nobody really pays attention to that”. maybe these statements fund the final exhumation of this treasured mystery for one stark reason.

i don’t upkeep a reinforced identity of self. it’s out of practice from my corrupted social manipulation. i’m almost more unguided and befuddled without the selfish casting for others’ opinions. a new social setting platforms an opportunity to adjust the bow of the ship toward genuine living, yet i remain on course for its opposite.

summing all this disource up for review, my discomfort in being unfamiliar with unfamiliarity isn’t from a growing distance to my belongings. it’s not about habits or productivity. it surrounds the dilemma of a new beginning. when i travel somewhere unordinary, will i be myself? or will i fall to the temptations of quick connection and consequently be abandoned by innate soulmate searches that toss me aside at the first whiff of pretend?

it’s no wonder i often feel alone, or struggle to form relationships. the one i should be closest with, myself, keeps getting kicked out of the car and stranded for someone else — someone i’m not.

– D K T


life ends. why pretend

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