Since my adolescence I have been kind of depressive. Probably not clinically depressed but once a shrink confirmed my suspicion. It might had happened when I first felt in love and got my heart broken, something that kept happening again an again, until I finally found someone who I could love and loved me back, without submerging me in a depression crisis. «Malparidez existensial» was a name people in Colombia had used to refer to that or similar feelings: «existensial sonofabitchness». Giving a combination of my depressive nature and my introvert personality, it usually manifested as social isolation.
An introvert personality is a personality type. Shyness, on the other hand, is a defect. Unfortunately introvert people trend to be shy, and I am, myself, not an exception. For a while I have been building around me a fortress to hide my real feelings, and then I happen not to know my real feelings. I might even think that I suffer from Asperger’s syndrome, given that I am not only unable to read my feelings, but I am usually unable to read other people’s. Well, no shrink has yet give me a hint that I suffer from Asperger’s, this could just be my way to rationalize my inexcusable shyness.
The bottom line: even if I recognize reality from fiction, I do not feel comfortable with reality, particularly with the reality that is closer to me. I can isolate in a crowd of friends and comrades. Well, actually, just in a crowd of comrades as it happens that I do not have a real friend (some of the people tagged in this note are the closest things to real friends I have ever had). I can push people away just when I most need them. The real problems that I am supposed to face and solve, are just things I keep procrastinating, because it is easier to me to deal with a virtual, distant, or just fictitious reality, than dealing with my closer reality.
I am in plain panic. For some time I had not feel that kind of depression I used to feel before I met Beatriz. This time it is not a broken heart (no yet, at least). This time it is just the realization that I am just a failure.
«The saddest thing in life is wasted talent.»
— Lorenzo Anello (A Bronx Tale)
However, I hope this panic status will soon be over. There is always a time for hope whenever you can still steal life a smile.