I keep apart from people because it’s difficult for me to maintain healthy relationships. My mind being what it is, I remember pain and misery more readily than the good times. The unhealthy solution has always been simple: isolate. Remain apart from new reasons to hate myself.
The isolation has become its own source of misery. I view it as a failure, as a reminder that I am not right. It’s hard to counter this notion. Even hearing counterarguments from people is an exercise in futility.
My mind isn’t a place where I’m allowed to be me. On good days, I remind myself that I’m just a state of decaying matter. Bad days bring about reminders that I can make the process go faster. I can’t just exist.
Isolation is such a necessary thing for me that I can only bring myself to physically tap keys and communicate with a thing which cannot say anything back. It’s an empty gesture that carries meaning, the only indulgence I’m allowed that might be mistaken for self-help. On some level, I recognize solitude will not save me, but being around people will not make me feel safe.