4 A.M.

 

Mr-Robot-teaser

Mr Robot

it is 4:27 am.

this occurred some time ago. Perhaps a year or more? Adrian, Douglas, Tyree, Sarah, Justin, Daycy and myself were associating at the apartment with Adrian and Douglas. I think the time we invited them over, Justin wandered in with a half folded novel in his back pocket. While everyone else shuffled into a sub group among themselves, he sat at a table and began to read.

the strangest part of this memory is being unable to recall, what, we were doing or playing. I remember us being together and spending time as friends often do. Instead, Justin poked his nose in and out from his novel, shifting pages among all of the chatter.

Reading is such a private past-time. You read when you want to be alone with the scenario and world the author creates. You want to invest your full imagination into the setting, losing yourself in all of the wonderful fantasy. When I am with other people, I tend to stay in their presence, usually running away in my own thoughts, but, still available. Lately, too much involvement in people has ruined any forward momentum in being social. I can exhaust myself in social settings.

Meetings are twice a week. I get my dose of individuals who I have worshiped with for years in 2 hour chunks. I do not wish to know any of them more than that time allows. Given my circumstances in the organization and bible doctrine, I seem to work against the principles I go out to teach others on. I think of <Redacted>, a tall girl who’s confused as a teenager, dancing on the fringe between true worship and the world. Those outer realms of understanding, when you convince yourself you are completely justified in the reasoning that as a human being; isolation from your so called friends is exactly what you want.

I can isolate myself into my own, fetid beliefs, coming to terms with the everyday quarrels I have among my small group of associates often begs to differentiate myself from those whom are in effect, extreme cases of narcissism. In a room of adults, bantering, laughing and enjoying one another presence, Justin took on the most insulting form — reading in a group of people.

I am unaware why this moment stuck out to me, but his wife called to him from over the chatter at the table we gathered at to play a game. Justin glared over the brim of his novel with one response, like a annoyed child, “Book.”

I cannot put into words how I feel. I know what it is I think, the thoughts to me are mesmerizing. In one place, I can understand the desire to run away with those thoughts, to drown yourself in the world of an author. Others, I require the stimulation, positive or negative of other people. As life changes in my friends small world, I often desire not to be desired, but left alone. It is 4:37am, the real reason i am awake this early is two fold. I went to bed around 8:30 or 9PM.

After a full stomach, I tried to finish an episode of an aged anime Read or Die. I couldn’t stay awake, I drifted off to sleep. I could only stir from my sleep after several hours of daydreaming of a relationship with <redacted>. We’re returning to that previous discussion before hand, I see a woman as an object and do not consider her feelings. This girl who cried on my shoulder during the convention because she had a terrible day puts up her walls once more to show the world how much of a unique individual she can determine herself to be.

I do not believe this is the case. Of course we are individuals. we are unique in our abilities as we do not run out to be the same person. But, I have seen her break under the pressure as others have seen me fold. Frustrating to make some waves, to push through and see her emotional state, to hug and hold her, to comfort her, only for her drive to push back and force herself into a corner.

I do not think that any one woman would be satisfied in the mask I put on. But I am an actor in the greatest one time play of life.

 

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