Relationships Are Hard

A lovely night isn't it? Apart from Eirian-II, all my other regular devices for reading are currently drained of their power, leaving me with some time to kill, and nothing to read. Couple that with the cool night time air from the just-fallen rain, it feels like one of those days where a little blog entry is in order.

Relationships are hard. I've finally gotten enough courage to read Suzuka, something that I have had my hands on for quite a long time but could never really ``man up'' to read it. I watched the anime for it that spanned the first ten volumes of the tankōbon volumes, but obviously it was only an adaptation and was therefore less complete as compared to the original manga. The choice of ``man up'' is deliberate---the story is in some ways sad because the failings of the protagonist are just so plain to see from the third party perspective, but in-universe, it is easy to see just why he can't see his own failings himself.

It hits a little close to home, actually.

Anyway, in the grander scheme of things, there's a reason why I don't watch much anime now as compared to the times when I was in college. I can't take it any more. No, not because of the ``animation'' aspect, but the emotional aspect that comes with each of the series that I watch. They feature human qualities like friendship, comradeship, romance, and somehow they all feel as though they hit a little close to home.

What I mean is, I feel lonely. Each time I watch these anime or read such manga, I feel a little lonely inside. It's not that I don't have any human connections whatsoever that is causing such a feeling of loneliness---it is that kind of semi-hollow feeling one gets when the connections are not that deep. It's a side effect of building all these protective walls around me, always presenting the fantastic façade against the world, always working to exhaustion to avoid having to introspect to find the lonely person within.

In many ways, I am extremely content, verging on being passive even. Sometimes, under the right triggers, I am reminded of how life can be like, and those times, I wish I were dead since that's how I end up feeling inside. Dead. Like there was nothing left to do for my emotional self.

I don't anger much. I don't cry much. I don't actually feel much in general. I share some mirth with friends over a joke, and maybe have that impish slant towards the ridiculous, but that's about it. It's quite contrary to be a musician while having such monotonous emotions---it seems that I have been good enough at fake-projecting all the needed emotions out whenever I have to play a piece. A cool gift, I would think, but ultimately it is just hollow. When I sit alone and stare out into space and happen to look back into myself, I see shadows. It seems that I can never look into myself---if there's something I would fear, it is to look into myself and finding nothing of value there. I only look outwards of myself, observing the world, thinking about what goes on out there, reasoning about everything else. I am too scared to look into myself because I know that I can find nothing there.

Sadly though, despite trying my hardest to not look into myself, I have done so more often than I care to over the past few years. I think I lost a part of me the day Ida dumped me. It has been five years, and you know what's funny, every now and then, out of the blue, I will think of her still, even though I know she cares not about me any more. It's not that strong of an emotion, granted, since it has the luxury of time to space it out---what I remember are the good things that happened, the kind of closeness that I'd never gotten ever since. But there was still the distance---we're talking about a girl who probably got the closest to me before it all fell through, and at the end of the day, even that wasn't close enough. I'm not really sure what to make of that though.

It's a funny sort of feeling to have. On the one hand, we find that people are relying on me increasingly for guidance and leadership, as a pillar to support our small little sub-section of society, all of which suggest some level of maturity and ken. On the other hand, I feel that deep within myself, I am still emotionally insecure and possibly immature. As I near my thirtieth birthday, I cannot help but wonder if my karmic lesson for this life time is to learn the true meaning of love and understanding.