I don’t remember exactly when I started this – just that it was a long time ago. And like damn near everything I attempt, it was started with good intentions… and now falls into neglect. I never once believed I could change the world. Maybe just reach someone – anyone. But then what? I’m not one to proselytize because I don’t like it when people try it on me. I think I was tired of fighting cliches; empty statements regurgitated from HuffPo or memes shared blindly. It’s all virtue signalling and I had the ego to take it personally.
Without even realizing it, I’ve developed my own bubble. It’s easy to write off libertarians as nihilists and I’ve even embraced the joke. I mean, say what you want about the tenets of National Socialism, Dude, at least it’s an ethos. But was forming a bubble necessary to be a libertarian, or is it just something that correlates? And is this bubble an actual bubble, or is it something more? Has my anxiety and depression flared up again under the guise of cutting myself off? Or was I just looking for a name for it?
I’ve never been one to conform or fit in, despite the details – if you’re paying attention – that should indicate otherwise. Dude, you do the typical American thing: you went to college, joined a frat, studied engineering, drink copious amounts of beer, and play Fantasy Football. Yeah, I get it. I’m aware. I’m seemingly normal on the outside. But something else separates me… A bubble? Anxiety? Depression? Being a society hating nihilist? I feel as though I’m bearing the weight of shackles that manifest as some sort of scarlet letter. A warning to those around me. I’m not some prince of the dregs of society. If anything, I feel that I lack some sort of calling – despite directly contributing to the production of goods.
Hi! What’s your name?
What do you do?
What are you into?
What brings you joy?
What do you do to disconnect from the 9 to 5?
An exchange that rarely happens – but when it does – proposes the biggest road block. I look at my life and I feel empty. Blank. Floating around, avoiding some unseen fear. Fears of judgment, ridicule, and mockery. So I hide like a hermit, in my bubble, looking to the world around me… hoping… wishing for an extended hand. A hand I would happily extend myself.
Is 30 too young for a midlife crisis? Or is this the chosen path for millennials? I’m 29, going on 21. What I want is different than what is expected. Deviation is applauded, so long as you deviate in a way that is acceptable. Everyone wants to be a hedonist until it comes time to do hedonist shit. So let me be a hedonist. I just want to know I’m not alone in this pursuit. To know maybe there’s something out there. People to revel with who have the same expectations (or perhaps the lack-of).
In the meantime, I don’t know what else to call it.