This is the part of me that needs medication.

I have finally deactivated Facebook for what will (hopefully) be one of the last times. I still need to see if I can login back in and setup device passwords for Spotify (which shares an account) on my phone, iPad, and computers. As far as actually using Facebook for its intended purpose, I am officially over it.

Once again, life has led me to doubt the veracity of my interpersonal relationships. Humans, myself included, are nothing more than self-serving animals and to delude oneself into believing otherwise is a recipe for platonic heartbreak; I cannot really judge anyone for being this way, because I am too, in every aspect of my being. Knowing what I know now doesn’t invalidate the feelings I had for the parties in any of the friendships that I previously believed myself to have experienced, but it does effectively nullify my desire to partake in any in the present or immediate future. Ironic, because exactly a week ago, I was smugly content in the now-proven-false knowledge that I had some solid relationships in my life. It’s a shitty lesson to have to learn, but I guess I was just desperate enough to force myself into seeing things that didn’t exist, but I should I have known better. I feel stupid, sitting here having learned this at nearly 30 years of age, but once the pain subsides, I believe I will be better off for having learned that, in the words of Modest Mouse, “no one’s going to play the harp when I die.”

Perhaps at some point when (if) I have gained enough social value to be truly human, I will be worthy of being known, of being respected. For now, I will try to swallow the nagging guilt of burdening others by continuing to live and attempt to find beauty and happiness through things which are within my control so as not to further impose my unwanted presence upon others. As part of this desire to keep my pain from impacting those who I hold/held close, I will “fake it until I make it.” No one has to be privy to the intellectual and emotional turmoil within, not when I have this silent and unknown digital void to bleed into; I do not think anyone suspects how far I have fallen, so I am doing well in my endeavour to date. I will redouble my efforts to pretend that everything is fine so that no one, with the exception of my doctors whom are paid to entertain my problems, will suspect a thing. Perhaps this theatrical ruse will have some positive impact upon my mood as a side effect, life imitating life art and all that.

In the interim, I will lick my wounds and bury myself in literature and my seemingly-eternal pursuit for better as far as intellectual and physical fulfilment goes. At the very least, I have been productive today: I filed my state taxes, updated my LinkedIn to reflect a promotion I got almost a year ago, and shovelled snow until I almost lost consciousness. It feels good to have done something with this day even though I am now exhausted and extremely hungry. My plans for the rest of the day include February’s budget, reading, and shovelling more snow.

I am not okay, but I will pretend to be in hopes that some day, some how, I may be once more.