Going through old things, sorting what to keep and what to say goodbye to. It occurs to me, with these things-- one of the most emotionally painful things that has happened to me is being given things. People have bought solutions to problems I've brought up before-- and in some cases the problem is long gone but the 'solution' hangs around gathering dust.
What is so wrong about people trying to help in this way? Nothing-- it's good, I think. But I realize that in my own narrative, in telling others about certain things-- it's not their purchasing power that I want. I didn't want them to buy me a solution, necessarily. What I wanted was to get them into my life, have them be a part of things with me by sharing both pain and triumph.
In a way, I just wanted someone to listen and socialize with. But the end result is that instead of a person, a solidified social bond-- instead I have all this stuff. And stuff cannot fill that emotional void or provide that sort of comfort I sought. I appreciate the person, I appreciate their gesture of kindness and goodwill-- but the thing... the things just remind me that I am alone. The person(s) bought me things and now the things remain, but the person is gone.
And that's just fucking sad. People over things. Experiences over 'getting stuff.'
I don't regret not having the shiniest toys, a higher income, fancier things, etc. What hurts is that some of my friends did get those things-- it can feel as though I were left behind. I don't have the same things as them anymore, so we can't be together in an activity: our activities together were based on shared things, shared interests. Oh how easily it all crumbles.
So much of my life I know now was not as solid as it seemed. There is indeed some loneliness, bitterness, regret and anger floating around in me around these issues.
It has been great fun, being gifted this fancy nintendo console and getting to play with some people again. But I can't scrub out the thoughts which I've clarified above. It can't last unless we all commit to running on the treadmill together. Companionship is, in a way, tied directly to suffering and stress.
Seeing the danger in a cohort, a company,
wander alone like a rhinocerous.
Though I still yearn for the warmth of friendship.
Toys and games and things are not the point.
Happiness is nothing if not shared.
I think-- with some of my old things when I handle them, there is anger. And this anger, I feel, is rooted in the giant lie of the world: that things make us happy. I can remember the happiness of the past in a given thing, but when I look at it now it does nothing for me. Maybe my wires are just crossed, but if something no longer pleases me to own, then fuck that thing. I am far more ruthless about things in this way than I ever was before, because I am more painfully aware of what it costs to hold on to things.
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