Fear of Freedom

I was comfortable.
I wasn't happy, but I wasn't overtaken with sadness, either. I just... was.

My experiences had put me in a bad place, but it was a place that I had made a fragile peace with. I was depressed, but it was a low grade, simmering depression.

Nothing I couldn't handle.
As long as I controlled my environment.

I expected the worst. From people, from life, from everything.
So I withdrew from it.

My best friend had graduated and moved away. Aside from occasional weekend trips to the beach with him, I was alone, most of the time.

I was still living in the 100.00 a month basement apartment. Why move? It was just me, and I wasn't planning on having guests.

My life consisted of waking up, going to the gym, going to work, going to bed.

This is all I knew for years, and it has been a comfortable place for me to return after aborted forays into the world of "normal" people.

People bother me. I honestly have forgotten how to interact with them in a positive way.
The idea of simply walking up to a stranger and making small talk is as foreign to me as flying a plane. I see other people do it, but have no idea how they do it.

I have spent so long turned inward that moments of outward projection cause me great discomfort.

I can fake it for short periods, but the environment is so strange to me that it isn't long before I retreat back into the familiar confines of my own space.

My logical mind recognizes that it is unnatural to be so alone.

My emotional mind tries very hard to slap my logical mind back into submission.

And it usually does.