For quite a long time now, I’ve been a loner.
This means, that while I have indeed experienced the occasional social experience, I’ve never remained on solid ground occupied by many people for too long of a stretch of time. I don’t find this enjoyable, and because of past experiences am now made remotely uncomfortable by being surrounded by masses of lifeless drones prone to sheep-walk in circles pretending to like one another strictly for the purpose of not wanting to tell each other how they truly feel about each other. This brings me to my point:
If you spent 85% of your time in high school and beyond being swamped by group after countless group of social cliques, stop telling people you were an outsider.
Just stop. I’ve heard so many times from so many people who thought it was “the cool thing” to inform people that you had fewer friends than everyone else, quite possibly out of some vain hope that opening that empathetic doorway would make it easier for them to be trusted or liked. It doesn’t. It’s just as annoying, and pointless as every time some moron utters that ridiculous phrase to justify incessant action by stating “Oh, I’m just really OCD” as if they actually knew what a single minute of having the disorder felt like. You more than likely have known multiple people like this. These yuppies, who crave more than anything the attention of those around them try almost effortlessly to fit in everywhere they go. They will tell people anything in the desperate act of pacification, that more often than not they are inclined to fabricate any and all situations necessary in order to suit the situation, including “reaching out” to others with their pity stories of how lonely they are, or were. The problem with informing people though of how little social contact means to you, and then saying “Oops, gotta go meet my friends out at the mall in 15 minutes, BYE”, is that you completely invalidate any point you were previously attempting to make, and are now damaging your case worse than you realize. This is primarily because what these children don’t understand remains a constant boundary between them and actual loners; if you were a social outcast, there’s a damn good chance you weren’t one by choice.
Mingling was never something I valued as a respectable trait. Nothing screams “what the hell is wrong with me” louder than piecing lifeless thought after another across the lunchroom table everyday while trying to gain a laugh or acceptance from a group of people who in less than a four-year period you won’t see anymore. I wanted more than anything to fit in, as I had always been the target for malicious bullying in middle school, inadvertently leading to my fear of being excluded from any group-think imaginable. This caused me to turn into a puppy, following around any and all ties to a social group possible. ALL of them. Goth kids, cholos, band geeks, preppy children, child-gangstas, orchestra dorks, chess club, debate club, boys, girls, anything. It never became any easier. In fact, the only thing I truly learned from the sad experience is that if you’re going to engage a new group in conversation, it’s best to keep your mouth shut until they speak, lest you run face first into an incredibly awkward situation. I’ve stopped counting the amount of times I was met by that exact same idiotic blank stare as they attempted to figure out what the fuck I was doing inside their fortress of solitude. They all have their own inside jokes, constructed from their own group memories, pasted together by group members who comprise the core of their social clique, all brought in by a single event that they consider their own inception. Therefore, if you don’t meet the following criteria, you don’t qualify to be one of them, and regardless of how hard you try to shove yourself in the door, you’ll never manage to become like one of them; not only because they don’t recognize you, but because they don’t want to.
After countless attempts at socially corrupting myself in order to try to fit in, I finally stopped kidding myself. There was no point in trying to become like them anymore. From the outside, they all looked the same and regarded each other in precisely the same manner. They all had their taboos, and they all seemed to follow in suit with their group rather than think for themselves, all because of an individual of their legion chose to go a certain moral or ethical path. They treated people in the same manner, and anyone who they deemed unlike themselves became suddenly a threat and was viewed with an air of condescension and cynicism. They received no courtesy, nor did they gain any attention. The only ones who could even slightly buckle the defenses of the group were a certain set of people who liked to cater to all of them. These highly popular kids spent a maximum of 5 minutes with any particular group of people, therein allowing them to hover like “social moths” in and out of conversations. Perhaps because of their potential to drift in and out of circles, these people never seemed to find a place that wasn’t their home. They wandered throughout all of them, like cheap politicians whose only ambition was to ensure that everyone received the same disgusting smile and handshake on a daily basis. While I spent my lunches in the library with my friends King, Lovecraft, Poe, and Tsunetomo, these kids were busy checking off names to make sure no one forgot about them. While I was at home, playing video games by myself, these children were busy burning through countless gallons of gasoline in order to make sure they made it to at least twenty different homes of acquaintances daily.
I could never understand why these people spent so much time aimlessly doing cartwheels while they attempted to impress everyone around them, and to this day I can’t understand why it is that these same people insist on catering to others in a world where social circles are so small, they’re directly relative to a family unit or couple. I’ve never needed someone to try to reach out to be my friend before, and I don’t know what would incline someone to start now. These people weren’t actually a part of anything that they presumed they were. They weren’t social butterflies, they were placeholders. Unimportant, dull, there. Their entire purpose was built around the idea of +1, and because of this they were always the 5th wheel. Unlike them, I’m not trying to be assembled with the rest of the car. I’m the motorcycle, independent and travelling on my own. These people need to stop trying to understand an actual outsider. I never desired to be locked out of the club, and I never wanted to be behind the curtain while everyone else was putting on a grand show in front of it. It just happened that way, and I don’t think I would change a thing about it now. It has granted me the freedom to think outside of social norms, and have brought me insight that would’ve never been available if everyone was busy blocking my view of the outside.
Even now as I sit alone in my room, I’m not truly alone. With my music blasting, and keyboard furiously clicking I’m surrounded by the comforting words of authors, musicians, and philosophers who were quite possibly some of my only true friends.