When the lights go out

I have decided that I am far too open with people. I overshare and that seems to be a problem. At first I thought it was just people being people, but having so much pointed out to me has made me look inside and understand that people just don't want to here what I have to say. And I get it. An acquaintance of mine said that I need a therapist to work through all of my negativity. A coworker said that I only enjoy drama. Friends and family rarely engage with me because I am either too opinionated or I carry myself like I know everything. Or maybe that is how I perceive others behaviors. Whatever the case may be, it makes me feel more isolated now that I have ever felt in my entire life. I feel like I can't open up anymore. I don't really have the energy to be something that I am not simply because people can't see how remarkable I really am. And honestly, when it is all said and done....it doesn't really matter. I am the one who has to live with myself and my choices.  I don't know what the answers are in life. I know that if I do things for me to make myself happy, it only matters to me. I can't share those things with anyone anymore. Good or bad, I don't have a ride or die person to see me through. And I used to think that I was funny. I used to think that having wit or sarcasm meant that you could point out an absurdity in situations and folks could have a good laugh. But I was never nor am I now the class clown. I am just a jackass who keeps giving pieces of myself away to folks who pretend to be something that they are not. I want to be something more than a negative creep. I want to see the world as wonderful and beautiful. I don't want to feel like I have sickness and insecurities. I don't know how to get it. Making connections has led me to more road blocks than anything I have ever done in my life. My politics are too extreme. My absence of faith or religious affiliation leave me abandoned. My choice in music is constantly mocked. My ideas, my art, my image, my clothing, my writing, my social presence, my value...all of these things...are nothing more than fodder to people who would never really mourn my passing if it happened unexpectedly.  I have always found it funny when folks say that life doesn't owe you anything. The comment itself is a passive way to tell folks who struggle with mental illness or depression that they just need to get their shit together and deal with it. When pretty people die you see things and hear people say "oh they were so beautiful, what a shame they died" and equate physical appearance of folks with a life lived fully. And the funny thing about telling folks to buck up is that bucking up never fixes the issue(s). Being told to love your inner beauty still doesn't fix the fact that folks will look right past you when you don't fit a particular mold. Being told that "there is someone out there" for you doesn't fix the fact that we live in a world filled with people who feel entitled to  tell you that you shouldn't try for something more than you are capable of actually getting. When love to tell folks that beauty is only skin deep, but we still pick the weeds out of the garden because they really don't serve a purpose. And that is what I really feel like lately anyway. A weed. Something without any real purpose. My parents don't see any value in me. My friends are comfortable from a distance. And I feel like this old weirdo whenever I try to make conversation with total strangers. Most of the time it is just for the interaction. Whatever it is in life...I think that it is finally killing me and putting me in the place that I actually belong. Obscure. Forgettable. Unimpressive. Obsolete. I am nothing to no one and just another light waiting to go out.