The Makings of a Martyr
Over the past few months, I have started to realize things about myself that other people find appalling. I’ve begun to understand that I am not like most people, as I struggle to find joy in the mundane tasks of life. I yearn for something more—something greater than myself. I long for deeper connection, not this surface-level nonsense. I want to see what the view is like from the top of the mountain.
Many of the people I surround myself with in Tampa I would have considered friends. What I’m starting to realize is that very few of them are like-minded. I struggle to explain my perspective because no one wants to hear the problems of someone striving for betterment.
What I’ve found is that people mostly want to talk about their own problems, and few will listen. People only want things for you went it betters them and no one wants to be called out on the false image they present to the world. I’ve also noticed that people get offended when you point out something they thought was hidden. The things we so desperately try to hide from ourselves are almost immediately apparent to any stranger who speaks with us.
There was a music festival this past weekend called iii Points that I was supposed to attend. I had paid my share for the Airbnb, was active in the group chat, and was excited to go. But a couple of months ago, my attitude toward it all changed. I developed a kind of vitriol towards music festivals, and I think that came from a realization. I realized I was using these festivals to run away from something. I was living my life in three-month increments, avoiding my own insecurities. What that insecurity is, I’m not sure. Or to be more honest, it’s not something I’m ready to share here. Maybe one day I will.
I’ve started confronting "friends" about the club scene—about how going to the club and doing drugs is a substitute for facing their own insecurities. They choose to run away from their pain instead of attacking the problem head-on. They delay the process of self-discovery, which to me seems crazy. You'll have to work on yourself eventually, so why not sooner rather than later? Because what is the alternative, you spend your twenties partying it up, using drugs to run away from your problems. Then by the time you hit thirty you realize you are empty inside and now you want to start learning about yourself. However, at the time it is a bit late and everyone around you has left you. That's my view, but I understand not everyone thinks like that. However, when I express these thoughts to the people I care about, they get uncomfortable and offended.
A couple of weeks ago, let’s call her Sydney. So, Sydney asked me to keep her accountable, and I did. What I didn’t expect was that she wouldn’t follow through on what she set out to do. I tried to keep her honest, but she made excuses for why she couldn’t get things done. Which is fine, but why ask me to hold you accountable if you’re not going to keep your promises?
I was attending a sermon recap on Monday night, and the topic was knowing when a friendship is no longer worth it. I admit I was skeptical. As I sat in a chair with a black metal rod backing and a felt cushion, I started to reflect on my relationships. When is it time to let a friendship go? I’m a loner at heart—I don’t really like sharing my wins with others. I struggle to accept my own achievements and give myself credit for things I know are worth "bragging" about. This "earn your cookie" mindset is something I've been trying to understand this year, which I think ties into being a loner.
What the sermon recap made me realize is that I haven’t found real friends in this city. I’m still alone, and that’s scary. However, I think I’m starting to be okay with sitting in that loneliness. Some days, I sit at my desk or lie awake at night, anxious about the future, but I’ve come to a realization: I don’t want it any other way. People tell me to stop overthinking, but what’s the alternative? Should I dull the pain with substances like everyone else? I don’t want to be normal. I see how "normal" people live their lives, and I don’t want that. I want to push myself beyond the limits I thought were possible. I want to be my own worst tyrant. I do not want to reach the end of life and say, "I could have worked harder" or "I wish I’d tried that when I was young"? I don’t want to be the person who regrets not testing my limits. I truly don’t understand how people can go through life without wanting that. Some people might call it a curse, but to those people I say, "I feel bad for you." I believe you truly discover yourself on the edge—the edge of life, the edge of a challenge, the edge of anything, really. I think you discover the most when you are in fear.
What I have learned throughout this year is that I am different, and I am ok with that. I would not have it any other way because the only thing I have is myself. At the end of the day I have to be ok with the person I look at in the mirror and if that means I am ostracized. So be it.