Multimodal - Calvin

Toxic
Alone. It’s how I spent my freshman year of college. It’s where I formed my philosophy. It’s also the time and place where I can breathe and grow. I discovered the person I am and figured out what steps I need to take to become the person I want to be. Free from judgement, from worry, and from obligations to anyone and anything. Time where I can rest and settle back into the person that my daily life shakes lose; rattling his cage and agitating him. The best use of my time.
The death of a significant other can produce this kind of a drastic perspective on life, but research actually shows that happiness levels nearly return to what they originally were after four or five years. The view that I have isn’t because anyone died, but because everyone I know has let me down. My best friend, that I’ve known since I was born, turned into another person when he went to college. Oblivious to other people’s desires or feelings, he’s become callous and toxic. He’s unreservedly shameful to be around and makes conversation impossible, because he feels his opinions are more important. Another one of my best friends literally ignored me for our last semester of high school. After we graduated I asked one of our mutual friends why he did it, and his answer was that he was just bored of me. I also found out that I was often the point of derision for them. I can remember a specific instance where the four of us were at my house and decided to go to a movie, but I couldn’t go because I didn’t have any money. They went without me and then came back to my house later. At the time, I was shocked and appalled that they would actually go without me and not even offer to pay. The very least they could’ve done was to decide to stay. It all seems so obvious now when I think about the kind of people they are. Other people I thought were friends would ignore me from time to time and they all eventually just faded away. In fact, I only have two friends from my first twenty-one years who I ever see anymore.
My parents were no help. They constantly berated me on keeping grades and for how “awfully” I treated my friends and family. My dad never seemed to have anything good to say about me even though I was a varsity soccer player when I was a sophomore and graduated with a 3.9 GPA. He would always say he was so hard on me because he knew I could be a better person, which was true, but I can only remember the one time, at my graduation, where he said he was proud of me. A friend put it best when he quantified our relationship by saying, “He was a good provider but not a good father.” My mother always seemed disturbed by the way I dressed and the kind of music I listened to. She was completely aghast when I dyed my hair black and claimed that dying one’s hair black was demonic, never giving me a straight answer for what she thought of people with natural black hair. My parents even created rifts between me and my sisters because we felt we always had to fight for their love and approval. Disappointed. That’s all they ever seemed and it was their only punishment for us. I think they believe they raised healthy children.
Isolated. Being alone comes not without its limitations. No one can hurt me, but I have no one to lean on. I have no one to trust and no one to connect with when I really need it. My great grandmother died yesterday. None of my friends even know that it’s happened because I don’t trust people enough to have the kind of relationships where I could talk about serious matters. Without any sort of meaningful connection, I’m left sometimes to muse in quiet agony. The cage around my person makes it so that no one can come near, but also drives away the possibility of any good influence coming close enough to make an impact in my life. I can’t tell the difference so I’ve come to depend on myself as the only person I trust. He taught me self-discipline and turned my pessimism into realism. People try to tell me that thinking the worst of people is pessimistic, but it’s all too real to me. The reality of it is it’s much easier to be happy because the slightest amount of good is more than I expected, and most people aren’t as bad as the friends I’ve had. Letting people get too close, though, makes everything unravel because I don’t give out many chances anymore, and keeping them at a distance is easier anyways. After their first mistake, I usually lose all faith and avoid them, which generally offends them. Things are just more simple this way.
Thinking about all the people I’ve known and loved reminds me of how toxic those relationships were for me. Days like Sunday, with no one to help alleviate the stress and carry my burden, make me think of how straining my choices are on my emotional health. People are my vice and having one person that I can trust is all that I really want. My only constant is the phrase, “How quickly I forget that this is meaningless;” the basis of my entire attitude towards problems, regrets, and pain. As cynical as it may be, this phrase allows me to move on and have control over my life. But days like Sunday make me wonder if it’s just as toxic as the people I’ve known.