Pathetic Inspiration

Often, I find that incredibly foolish things make me realize things about myself. My latest self discovery, one that I'm having trouble thinking, let alone writing or voicing, was set off by my watching Avatar: The Last Airbender on Netflix Instant-Watch, and was furthered by the song "Can't I Just Be?" from Homemade Fusion (a musical that I'm not entirely aware of; I just know that one song). Foolish. But apparently informative nonetheless.

I'm sitting in my apartment in Ithaca on a Saturday night, fully aware that there's a full-blown party going on within 10 minutes walking-distance of my complex, bored and lonely. I thought about going to the party, but I disliked the thought of going alone (not just because my father wouldn't have been happy) and didn't feel like coming up with something creative to wear instead of clothes (since that was the theme of the party). I began to think about why I didn't want to go alone to the party, about how much I hate making small talk with people, and how there would be over one hundred people at that party I could say hello to, but very few with whom I could have an actual conversation. That's when I realized how shallow my connections with everyone in Ithaca are and why that might be.
I'm pretty sure I'm not an uninteresting person and that I'm not a person with nothing to say. But I think a layer has developed; a barrier between myself and "myself." I've also been thinking lately about how little I am affected by things these days, whether it be an insult, the loss or pain of a friend, a poor grade or late work. It seems I've built a wall that keeps out the reality of a given situation and dulls the meaning of...life. I don't mean to sound so dramatic. I just mean that I've noticed a certain numbness about me, and a certain distrust of people, that has been slowly developing and seems to have hit (what I hope will be) a pinnacle. I wonder how this distrust and numbness stems from the abandonment I felt when my mom died. That last sentence was hard to write; I still censor myself, even if no one will ever see it, out of shame. I shouldn't feel abandoned. I have no right. But I have lost faith. I'm not sure why it shames me or embarrasses me to feel this way, but I can't feel her anymore. Her spirit is no longer with me. Maybe that's the sense in which I feel abandoned.

"Maybe this doesn't make sense now. Maybe I'm tired of dogmatic decrees. Maybe my faith has abandoned me somehow; maybeI don't even know what faith means. Maybe I'm doubting and questioning everything; maybe I'm suddenly no longer sure. Maybe your faith in me was mistaken."

My realization of my numbness led me to my next thought: I am afraid to face myself. That barrier that I built may be meant to keep me out just as much as it is meant to keep the rest of the world out.