I was born a doll in a microwave

       

          Maybe I do have an “addictive personality.” I can't seem to do anything in moderation – anything that makes me feel good, at least. I live for the ultimate high in everything I experience, and if I don't get there, I feel unfulfilled and crave anything and everything that will take me there, take me to the highest high. It's like everything I do is in the mindset of masturbation. That may sound disgusting, but let's be real here... you don't do it for the process; if there was no orgasm, no one would do it. It's the end that makes the process enjoyable. How frustrated everyone would be if they tried and tried and tried to reach orgasm and it never happened, and then someone told them that they're supposed to only enjoy the act of masturbating, the process, they're not supposed to do it for the end result; “there's no climax; you just have to learn to enjoy the act – the act without the result.” What is the result? Relaxation, contentment. If it was sex... ya know, with another person who you love or whatever... I suppose the result would be different – the result would be love, connection, closeness, a deep bond. Maybe that's where I'm off. I view life as masturbation when I should view it as sex. It's not just a view I have though, not just something I can choose whether or not I want to believe it; it's part of my brain, my thinking, my feeling, my reactions, my actions, and whatever else there is. So, life is sex.

Sex is something with an awful reputation. Life has the reputation as being a bitch.. pretty awful too.

Sex hurts, humiliates, confuses, degrades, emasculates, terrifies, abuses, incriminates, takes away innocence, identity, individuality, confidence, security, self-respect, hope, peace, freedom, love.

Life hurts, humiliates, confuses, degrades, emasculates, terrifies, abuses, incriminates, takes away innocence, identity, individuality, confidence, security, self-respect, hope, peace, freedom, love.

Difference is, people can hate life and love sex. Sex guarantees some amount of relational bonding; life does not. A life can go from beginning to end without any relational connection. Sex is relational connection by physical means.

Maybe it's an awful analogy, but it resonates with how I feel in every social situation, or anytime I try to do something fun. I walk away going, “Was that it?” feeling totally empty, unsatisfied, unfulfilled. Maybe things that fill normal people don't fill me. For them, there's a relational need to be met, and it's met by being with people. For me, I don't consciously have that need, and I've never known it. My engine stopped running on fuel a long time ago, and now it runs on air. It learned how to move around like a car, but if you pop the hood, nothing is on, nothing is running. Is it still a car if it doesn't have a working engine?

My brain rewired itself into receiving fulfillment from strong feelings, emotional highs, physical highs. A man showing interested in me, a drink or smoke, a friend telling me how I'm the most awesome person ever, or the construction of radical, abstract, creative thoughts or theories (like this one): these are the only things that make me feel alive, fulfilled. Without them, i'm running a race without a finish line. This is why I feel that I have to go crazy deep with people – crazy deep and radically real, because my relational radar only goes off when strong feelings are expressed. I receive so much fulfillment and life in arguments because I feel connected to the person or people with whom I'm arguing. They walk away thinking I hate them and I walk away initially exuberant, then learning how they feel, I feel so sad, to put it plainly. I feel sad that my heart was alive and happy in the conversation while theirs was growing colder and more distant with every word.

I'm learning about normal relationships from Melanie. She doesn't go deep or share her real, unveiled feelings, but she does consider me a friend and I think she cares about me, though I don't feel it. I watch our relationship, I study it to understand how people do it. They all think I'm on top, I'm confident, I'm the leader... but I'm studying their every move, trying to discover what friendship is. Maybe I don't want them to know that I'm the car whose engine is off, my feet sticking through the floor board propelling my car forward with all my strength, trying to stay at the same pace as them. If I thought it would help, maybe I'd let them in, but my feelings tell me that nothing will help. And it's too tender a subject to risk being laughed at or misunderstood. I'm very sensitive. I need to accept that. I need to stop acting so tough... but being so sensitive, it feels impossible not to have a tough outside. People are so harsh and I'm so tender. I don't know if I want to be, but I am.

I wonder if all their engines work.