Anthropologist

Before you question my credibility in writing this post, let it be known that I've been succumbing to isolation and sheer introversion in the past week and am in no position to justify my thoughts and actions. Everything you will read in the following paragraphs are the raw manifestations of the mental injuries I have been subjected to, so do try to keep your judgment as minimal as possible (if I may ask that of you).

Throughout my life, I can safely say that never once have I ever felt a permanent sense of social belonging. For one, I've never arrived at a point where I've totally conformed towards the values and behaviors of a social group. I could be well-acquainted with how things are run within the circle, or even pick up particular attributes that very well mark the individual with the collective, but I've never been known to totally immerse myself in the specifics and in turn, become one with the group. As much as I drive myself to exert the characteristics synonymous to the environment I am thrust into, there is no point of finality, or so to speak, social nirvana, for me. I will never bring myself to say that I truly belong, for there is always bound to be something that exhibits me as uncommon, or peculiar, to say the least.

Within every social group, there are a key set of characteristics that each member is well acquainted with and will exert in the course of their membership. It's a given fact, whether consciously or subconsciously, that we tend to bind ourselves to a code of conduct in order to reinforce our identities via the institutions that provide them. Even I cannot distinguish myself from this rule, for man is a social animal and therefore, I am. Most of the time however, I tend to lie on a continuum when it comes to the supposed ratio of compatibility I possess with members of a certain social group. As a result, I easily tire myself from the endeavors I forcibly participate in. Every day, I am reminded that assimilation is the general order, and conformity the price I pay to dissociate from my penchant of insecurity. I am barely amused by the living souls that contribute energy towards the sustenance of a circle, and I often find most people appalling.

Frankly, I am also aware that this distaste is mutual on their part. I could very well be minding my own business, expressing my personal thoughts towards any individual, and a particular character will somewhat find a way to spit out rebuttals with a waterfall of sarcastic phrases, gushing out to evoke fury within whom these statements are directed to. Suddenly, I am aware - aware that I do not belong where I am not accepted, where I am not loved, and that I should go.

Occasionally, I do find the exceptional human being in this endless search for solace. I am well attracted to the intellectual, philosophical mind, but it is just the same with a soul of sheer simplicity. I constantly admire how pure the latter's aspirations are, how little the expectations they hold unto life, and how easily amused and entertained they are, a trait reinforced by their oblivion towards sarcasm and dark humor. Their emotions are genuine - so utterly untainted, unlike the superficiality displayed by the average, ignorant person.

As for the former, I've always been intrigued by the cerebration of a complex mind, and it brings me comfort to know that there are others like myself, who still exist in this world and are determined to deconstruct it mentally, even if it meant to dwell in an alternate reality and take the path less traversed upon. Nevertheless, this faction remains in a relatively small number, and I have known some of them long enough to have seen them switch allegiances, giving way to peer pressure. Ultimately, I've seen some become so immersed in assimilating that they somewhat lose themselves in the process. I guess tragedy is inevitable.

Nevertheless, with every entry into and departure from the factions that have actively crafted my social web, I become enlightened. By building rapport with the people I am surrounded with, I learn a little more about the myriad of human attitudes towards life and the general demeanor they exude. With every conflict that rises within the circle, I probe into the complexities of human character and classify them into categories where need be. Ultimately, I generalize - I take into account the collective culture of a social circle and put them into boxes to be neatly tucked away in the recesses of my mind.

And that is why I have titled this post as such, for I see myself as an anthropologist - a social scientist who studies the origin, the behavior, and the physical, social, and cultural development of humans. Traditionally, anthropologists studied tribal groups but as there are no "undiscovered" groups remaining in the world, the focus of anthropology has shifted to industrializing and agricultural societies. It's a flexible and progressive field of study, don't you think?

Academia aside, I somewhat find this analogy rather adequate in describing my current circumstances. Perhaps things aren't as dull and uninspiring as it seems, but my judgment has been rather clouded as of late. I know I should be dwelling on the Word of God more frequently and I do find clarity upon reading scriptures, but there are moments when I just can't help but concoct secularist queries which somewhat undermine the ability of faith. I guess now that I've penned all of this down, I've got my answer and should therefore move on with my life.

But I am curious to know, what say you?

Letting go

The most difficult part about letting go is precisely that - just letting go.

You're almost there. You've done everything you've had to do, to deviate from the past and move on. You've become a whole lot more spiritual over the months, confiding in God. You've set some distance between yourself and the people who've hurt you, the ones who broke your heart. And you've finally reconciled with them, albeit conventionally. Time had taken it's toll and although you're no longer whole as you once were, the sutures between the broken pieces are finally closing in and you're almost alright again. Just almost.

And then it comes.

Thoughts. Words. Rumors going about, giving you a glimpse of something contrary to what you've striven to achieve so far. You hear them talk about the presence of a brand new persona, and the seams around your heart begin to loosen. You've held it in, you've buried it in the ground and now it threatens to surface once more. You pick up your needle and thread, quickly holding up your fragile heart and attempt to patch up the loose ends. As you create miniature piercings on your heart with the needle, something leaks. It begins like a subtle tune, and then it becomes a song. Soon it flows, and memories, both good and bad pour out. You panic and accidentally drop your heart on the ground - partially stitched, partially open. You watch it lie pathetically on the ground, but resort to pick it up again. Is it still beating? Is it still alive?

Or is it on the verge of self-destruction, dying as it withholds the heavy sewing it was subjected to?

And then the tears roll down your cheek. You begin to ask yourself, "What have I done?" You cry out, begging for mercy, asking for a brand new heart. You just want to forget, and start all over. How will you ever restore it to it's original condition? You don't want the world to see you like this. You curse yourself for letting the memories burst out at the seams, although you aren't entirely to blame. But you know the world is cruel, it will not change your circumstances to suit your current state of having no composure.

You'll have to adapt.

So you go back to Step 1 and begin the same process all over again. You isolate yourself. You avoid silence in public, but delve in it completely in private. You rely on God all over again to provide you with strength, with wisdom. And you continually remind yourself that it is over, and that whatever surfaces is irrelevant - just a fragment of your subconscious mind poking humor at you. You dismiss thoughts, replace them and distract yourself with everything else. And you try to move on. Soon enougn, you regain composure. You reconcile with time, and your heart seems alright.

But you know it isn't the end. Something will strike you, and render you to succumb to misery all over again. And the next thing you know, it's rinse and repeat. Will you ever escape this cycle?

However, this time you recognize it, and that you try to fight back. You try as hard as you can to retaliate. The chances are slim, but you do it anyway. You might lose the battle, but you know you'll eventually win the war. You know you're more than this, more than flesh and bone and they try to kill you from the inside.

But as long as you fight - as long as you don't give in, you haven't lost. Just because you're losing, it doesn't mean you've lost. And you persevere.