"Bad at handling emotions. There is an excess of sadness and anger, yet a serious deficit of everything else. But I'm always in control of my actions. I can't form close, intimate relationships simply because I don't feel anything. I'm like a shipwreck survivor who somehow gets quickly and inevitably dragged to a very populated, loud shore, but instead of mirth and relief, I simply feel annoyance. And I swim back. Back into nothingness.

Forever lost at sea."

And such is my introduction. As usual, like in any other form of social media, it is unclear and it gives the wrong idea.

I found this website some years ago, but then I was simply caught in the turbulence of hormones and other teen moods.Not that they should not be taken seriously. Every single inner battle should be drowned out in a deluge of people. Their support.

But this would take me to a whole different topic. About how things should be, which is evidently not how things are.

In my brief discovery of this community, I figured writing here would do nothing but further my intense moments of sadness as I feel tempted to read about everyone else's shitty day.But now I am back because I need to be anonymous for once in my life.

Notice how I attempt not to use the word depression even though it is the theme of the website. I do not like this word, yet the prolonged maceration and evaporation of any positive feelings suggests that I might be also struggling. Now I have more life experience and maybe I could evaluate myself a bit better. Yet, like Dr. Bloom said on the TV show "Hannibal" (I snorted here, I don't even like her), maybe it is a mistake to submit yourself to self-evaluation, for our opinions of ourselves are skewed and twisted. But as you might have thoughtat the beginning of this paragraph, I am also a bit of a hypocrite.

Maybe one day I will dictate the state of my mind. I can, most of the time, but the shadowed thoughts keep churning inside my brain. It is like placing your cold, relaxed body — fresh from a dip in the sea — on hot, scorching sand. And other very negative circumstances in my life have placed me in a helpless situation in which I am prone to making comparisons. Now less than before.

I do know that the grass always seems greener on the other side. I have slowly mended my mind together in respect to this particular fixation. It is an unhealthy burden.

But I have found something else to deal with.

I have two theories about the inner workings of my mind. I am either completely apathetic towards romantic and intimate human relations, an issue I have struggled with ever since I can remember, or the chemical rewire of my brain, due to these intense moments of sadness, has changed its priorities and such particular needs found themselves at the bottom of the pit.

I have tried. I've tried it all. With many people. Yet I feel nothing.

But this tremendous apathy only occurs with people who like me as more than friends or have made any sexual advancements towards me.

I adore my friends. I love spending time with my friends and always find time for them.

But the other case has always been a weight. The exasperated sigh before I get ready to see them. The issue of always arriving late. Apathy. Exhaustion. My searing desire to put distance between us. Spending weeks without seeing them…. and not be buried under an avalanche of sentimentality and "I miss you so much"-s.

I thought I was abnormal. I thought something was wrong with me and tried for years to change, forcing myself into these relationships. Not because I did not like being alone or yearned for somebody's presence… this is obviously the opposite case.

Everyone said my behaviour was not normal.

But I was fine with being myself the whole time.

Being young and impressionable, I was bullied into pursuing and fixing this "problem" I had.

Not once. Not even once did I feel normal. Society's definition of normal, that is.

My peculiar interests alarm other people and those combined with my aloof nature produce a great amalgam they define with offensive words of erratic, unstable people capable of harming others. I am sure you know which word I am talking about.

I wouldn't even harm a fly.

I suppose I will linger here until I discover whether my needs have been mentally repressed or I just have been born with a sublime sense of independence that could be defined as an asexual and aromantic state. 

Maybe this whole thing makes no sense… but it somehow makes sense to me. I just let my fingers automatically project the circulating thoughts inside my head. Pardon the length. But I am not really sorry for the confusing honesty.