Antisocial.

I am an antisocial person. This is something that I must readily admit. Perhaps I do not give the appearance of such, to most, but this is the fact.

When I was a child, I did not have very many friends. I had a few very good ones, and then many of them moved away or were very socially awkward, much like myself. As a result, I was not a social person. I spent my childhood reading books and playing video games. It wasn't until high school that I began to change into the person I became today. At first, I had many friends much the same as myself, in the manner that I always had in my life. We were awkward, we were antisocial, but we were like this together. At some point, we all decided to mature up a little, and started doing actually social things. We joined the play, and at this point I actually opened up for the first time in my life.

I made many new friends, and I fell in love. I realized that I was depressed, and began to exercise. I began to see, for the first time, that I was an intelligent man, and that I wanted more for my life than I already had at the time. Since then, my inner values have remained largely unchanged. My outside beliefs, my incidental traits, these have evolved and changed continually, and with every year that passes I change drastically. But at the core of my being are a few major beliefs, around which this change revolves.

I believe in the goodness of man. I work at all times towards self-perfection, (and thus its antithesis, self-destruction) and I try at all times to share my dream with the world. But of course, this is still not easy for me. For all intents and purposes, I began to be social roughly three or four years ago. Since then, I have made great strides, but I am still far from equal to many people who have been social for their entire lives, and I am certainly far from being perfectly social.

One of the great holdovers from my past life, one of the few things that I have not yet overcome, is my love for loneliness. I spent four fifths of my life being antisocial, being alone. It is easy for me. Being among others, sharing myself, this is difficult. It is hard for me, and when it fails me, when it rebuffs my attempts to join in it, I must naturally retreat to my room and the safety of myself. Some of my friends do not understand this, do not want to believe this. They tell me that the real me is the one that they see everyday, when they have no concept of the me that hides and keeps itself away from all others. Some close friends, they have seen my antisocial self, I have shown them bits and pieces, or perhaps more. But for the most part, the vast majority of my friends see only an outer shell, the necessary barrier that I must erect in order to be social.

This is perhaps indicative of me. I was never built for many friends. I have many, yes, but I have few close friends, and they are very tightly knit, much in the same way that it has always been. And, of course, this is how I prefer it. For any man with sufficient standards, there should be very few that meet these standards, and thus a small group of friends that he approves of. But at the same time, even some of my close friends seem to think that the me that they see, is the real one, the one that I enjoy and nurture.

This is false. The real me is one that I hide away, that I keep in dark places like these, one that tries often to connect with the social me, but in vain. I am a different person here than I am in life. I am a different person whenever I am alone, and this is the person that I prefer. This is the person that enjoys writing, and spends his time reading old novels to divine the secrets of the world. Of course, I enjoy being social, as an escape, as a rest to take my mind off of things. Work is important, but play is always necessary lest a man work himself to death.

I have been thinking on this antisociality, recently. Sometimes, I drive friends away, after a long enough time, simply because I do not esteem them highly, and even if I do, because I have grown tired of them, as they do not grow and change as I do. What I am trying to get at, is that I am not so sure that I should continue this blog. This makes a public mockery of my life, a mockery that at many times I would enjoy. But those are not these recent times of thought.

I also think that perhaps my last post was a bit harsh. I meant only to communicate that I do not really do this for other people, and that this is a blog of mine, of my thoughts. I really don't understand what it is that inspires others to think of my blog in the way that they do. But then, at the same time, there are people who read and enjoy this blog, and have taken good things away from it. I suppose that if for anyone, I really write it for them. I didn't communicate this properly, in my anger. I don't need to write this blog. It is far from central to my life. But, I would like to help people, I would like to change the world for the better. I do it with these words, with this hope, with this dream. I want to speak to everyone who enjoys this blog, I want to apologize to them. Perhaps I hurt you, I had no intention to.

In fact, I want exactly the opposite.