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The Marvelous Mr. Cundari?

There's a warm feeling of recognition when you're actively being pushed to leave your box of solitude. Are they friends if they're not forcing you to act against your self-imposed guardrails? To me, it means your presence is wanted. Wanted in a way that, without you, their own night would be nothing more than an empty post-shift bar hang. I feel gloomy every time I'm forced to join the rest of the group, especially with a Costco pumpkin pie in my fridge and my recent attachment to the TV show, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel . Of course, after the intersection of a pint or two of beer and a good song, my gloom turns into a curiosity about what comes next. For a monthly tradition, we'll go to a goth night so we can lurk behind the attractive and young people the International brings in. I'll see a girl or two there and daydream about who they are, what kind of interaction we could have. Nothing sexual for the most part, but a nod to their ability to stand out in a very...
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On My Mind

There’s a push and pull underlying my life. Moving directly into the hive of it all, I find myself forgetting about the backlog of social atrocities I’ve committed. Atrocity may be a harsher word than I’d like to use, but I stare at the ceiling above my bed, overthinking.

I wish I could be brute, passive, maybe even forgetful of my past. Every conversation I have is like a data overload coursing through my brain. It’s so frustrating to be incapable of relaying simple replies.

What does this person think of me? What do they want from me?

It’s paranoia. Predicting the future relationship between me and this person. It’s fine to dissociate from people you don’t see yourself getting along with. I know that. But it’s different for me. I’ve found that it comes from self-loathing in ways that prevent me from letting them in.

How am I going to ruin this?

They probably expect this, but I can never live up to that.

Nihilism has killed most of my past relationships.

Eventually, she’ll see past the illusion I’ve created. Eventually, they’ll know I have no money. Soon, he’ll see I’m not who I say I am — whoever that may be.

So what’s the point of continuing this interaction? What’s the point of trying in this relationship if I know it’s going to end?

I’m writing this out because I’m still trying to find the source that created this deep, negative existentialism.

Is it because I fear what others think of me?

Is it from self-dysmorphia?

A fear of failure?

Failing to live up to what others expect of me?

Murphy’s Law is defined as: the more you fear something, the more likely it is to occur.

I feared failing the person I cared about the most. I failed them. I feared losing the “love of my life” because I was afraid of not giving her the life she deserved. I failed her.

Fail. Fail. Fail.

Where did this fear of failure come from?

On top of that, where did my fear of success come from?

Sabotaging myself in order to stay in a constant state of fearing the outcomes of socialization.

I’m fucking tired of this.

The silver lining is that I’m aware... out of fear that I might put someone else through my inherent extreme skepticism.

Do I hate happy people?