Once more,. I shall do the psychological equivalent of sticking my finger down my throat in order to get rid of the poisons I have been swallowing for all these years.

An unpleasant image, I grant, but apt. And way less gross than the alternative.

I don’t know where to start. I know I am still not “done” I still have so much that I I need to “bring up”. I can feel it inside me, toxic and slimy, lurking at the lowest points of my psyche like polluted groundwater.

I’m just so fucking sick of it. You know what I mean? Sick of the whole damn thing. Sick of this life I live. Sick of counting off time till it’s respectable to die Sick of being myself, so limited and broken and weak, instead of being the powerful, competent, strong person who does a lot of good in the world that I know I can be.

That person, thqat version of me, lives inside me and struggles to emerge.

It’s taking longer than I anticipated.

But each day, he grows stronger and more real. More and more. he emerges as the real me for longer times and in fuller force.

Some day, I hope to be able to leave the old me behind and just be that guy all the time, and leave this stupid life behind as I finally, at long last,  bloom.

But I have a lot of fear and shame to overcome first. And rage.

So much rage.

The shame, or rather the depth andthe  pervasive nature of it, is a releatively new discover. Right now, all I can do is look at it from a distance and admire its rippling toxicity while I wonder how the hell I am going to deal with it.

And it’s attached to so many of my other issues. Certainly my crippling shyness is rooted in it.  In turn, the shyness is connected to my deep social anxiety.

Those things I think people are thinking about me when I am out in public alone are quite clearly all coming from me. The idea that people hate me and wish I would go away and are maximum outraged that I would even dare to leave my home and expose the world to my horribleness sure ain’t coming from them.

They are merely that which I use to externalize that emotion of self-loathing.

And as we have seen, that feeling comes from how I was treated as a child, and honestly for the rest of my life as well.

People do not want to be around me. I disturb them. I stand outside the walls of their social reality and by doing so, remind them that the walls exist and that there is a far vaster universe,. both inner and outer, that lies outside those playpen walls and that’s a thought that scares the crap out of them.

Plus I intimidate them. I don’t mean to. But most average people have never met anyone as smart as I am and I never learned to cloak my raging IQ and only show a safe amount of the iceberg, so I radiate intelligence on many frequencies.

And that is semi-intentional. I really want people to think I am brilliant. Not in a threatening way. Just in an admiring way.

I’ve been crazy freaking smart for my whole fucking ilfe and I would really like to start cashing in on that, please.

Regardless of intentionality, the point is that I scare average people because they can feel the power of my mind and yet I do not produce the signals that allow them to put me in a category they understand.

My signals are mixed, is what I am saying, and that confuses people so much that if they had their choice, they would rather I was a total asshole who was arrogant and dismissive and rude, because THOSE, they know how to handle.

Better a defined and understandabe evil than an undefined mysterious good.

And the mixed messages are semi-intentional as well. I defy categorization as a matter of course. I demand, with every fiber of my being, that I be treated as an individual, as me, and not some collection of categories into which I can be neatly filed.

And people hate that.

This defiance is so core to my being that I can’t imagine being any other way. And I know that I instincively preserve my undefined status and give interestingly vague answers to question I feel are too nosy or reek too much of categorization.

This can be very annoying to people. They want to be able to get some kind of clear idea of what and who I am.  They need to do it. There’s just plain too many goddamned people in the world to treat them all as individuals.

And yet, I defy it. I suppose, on some level, I feel like this will force people to deal with me as an individual and thus enable us to communicate as equals.

It doesn’t work that way. People don’t like being forced to do anything, let alone forced to deal with someone they barely know as an individual, and so they do what any smart animal does to avoid being trapped and just don’t deal with me.

Problem solved, at least from their point of view. They can quickly pave over the cracks in reality I have opened and go right back to their normal lives and never even think about me again. if they can help it.

It’s like I come across as lazy but powerful predator who is made all the more dangerous by his shapeshifting abilities and general mysteriousness.

I’m a friendly predator. I come across as harmless, which I am. But I think that for some people. the impression of being in the presence of a powerful predator never goes away, and they are disturbed by me.

After all, a friendly tiger is still a tiger, right? Sure he’s friendly NOW, but….

It seems impossible, but I guess I am going to try to come up with a version of me that I can live with who can restrain his need to prove how smart he is all the time just enough to stop unsettling people.

I don’t want to do it.

But it’s my only route to getting the positive social signals I so desperately need.

Things going well.

People liking me.

Feeling relaxed and safe amongst strangers.

People treating me nicely and my treating them the same.

Feeling like I am useful and worthwhile.

And so forth and son on, ad nauseum, ad infinitum.

I think that’s worth being a little more open to the idea of being socially defined.

I am a very lonely man.

And it;s time I opened the door.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.