Wednesday 26 June 2013

Anhedonia

They all shouted Surprise! and someone stretched out a cake towards me, a big beaming smile on their face illuminated by the glow of the candles.  I dread to think what expression those multi-coloured candles brought to light on my own mug.
    A friend of mine once told me that I have a Fuck-Off vibe, and this was why I found it hard to make new friends from strangers when we all went out.  I would sit enviously, perched in the corner of a nightclub, staring out into the little gatherings of people, laughing, chatting, getting to know one another, and many, ultimately, slobbering across one another's faces.  I was partially envious, but also full of contempt.  Perhaps the second expression registered more strongly, and that is why nobody approached me to engage me in conversation?
    I don't think contempt is the face lit up by the birthday candles - 30 of them - I find it hard to muster any kind of feeling at present, because despite their joyous cheer this is anything but a surprise.  Sure, I wasn't expecting it, but a birthday surprise is, to some extent, an entirely forseeable inevitability.  Of the limited range of things that could occur on a person's birthday this is probably one of the most obvious.  Especially on a so-called milestone like this.
    It's hard to be surprised when you think about things as much as I do, I mean, there's very little that can genuinely surprise you.  If you're crossing the road the chances of being hit by a car are greatly increased, so you think about that, you look both ways, you do your best not to be hit by a car, but there is always a chance that you will be, so it can't really come as that much of a shock.
    More so than that though, if a friend is late I will begin by assuming the worst - they have died somehow - I will list the many ways in which they could have conceivably died - hit by a car, mugged and stabbed, a slate fell from a rooftop, choked on some food, etc. - and follow this train of thought to reasons why they may be late, right up to them just being not very good at time keeping, so that by the time they do arrive I have already imagined every possible excuse they could possibly have presented outside of the absurd.
    Only the absurd is left to shock me, and things like that never happen, and I mean it would have to be truly bizarre, not even the arrival of an alien species could throw me, because it is entirely probable that one day this might happen, and, unless the aliens took on a form so utterly impossible to imagine there is no way that I would feel at all disturbed by their presence.
    I think I began to really take things in my stride when she broke up with me by accident.  A mis-sent text, it all seemed so inevitable, I guess suspicion can act as a cushion, plus I'd had my heart broken before.  It didn't really bother me, I figured that she should be happy, and if she's not happy with me then that's fine, she should leave me and seek happiness wherever it may be.  So, for me, it was all so simple, meet up, finalise the termination of our relationship, and move on with our lives.  I was surprised she cried when we hugged goodbye, but some people cry when leaving one job to go to another better one, such a strange emotional expression.
    When I felt the urge to cry, which I haven't in years, I would stop myself, it seemed like such a waste, usually because I was alone, so firstly why should I perform these crying theatrics for an absent audience, and secondly I should probably save my tears for something really devastating, and not just splurge them frivilously on my petty depressions.  But, events that other people might perhaps consider devastating came and went, and I did not cry.
    However, it's cheap of me to wish to only use my emotions to effect others, though I'm not sure how else to ever derive a reaction from people.  I feel so utterly unnecessary as a part of any human interaction, that I have often found myself slowly edged out of circles of friends, often literally - a conversational circle was close in front of me, meaning I am standing on the outside, facing someone's back, peeking hopelessly over their shoulders.  Whenever I speak the enthusiasm on other's faces seems to visibly vanish, leaving a bemused expression expecting me to say something to reassure them that I'm not devoid of character, and consistently I fail.
    Why, I think, should I even continue to attempt to become a part of groups that don't want to incorporate me?  But how will I ever meet someone if all my efforts are in vane?  Though why bother at all?  I enjoy my own company, I can entertain myself and I don't need the approval of someone else to live my own life, do what I want to do, and why should I have to share my time, my needs?  But, the choice to share, that'd be nice.
    They cut the cake into large segments, start passing it around on paper plates, I try my best to avoid taking a slice, I don't really like cake, but there's this pressure upon me - as the cake was made, without my consent, for me - that I should eat a piece and enjoy it, offer approving noises, and everyone will watch, take photographs, and make ridiculous cooing sounds as I am forced to shove a stodgy lump of icing encased sponge into my maw.  I don't want to, but I oblige.

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