Every few months, I find myself caught back up into, what I have deemed, a "cycle of caring."
Some might recognize said "cycle" as a decent, humanistic sort of thing, worthy of applause and merit.
I have no other choice but to see it as a pathetic waste of my time.
No. Not my time- my dignity.
I'm so utterly exhausted from waiting around for goodness to prevail, happiness to waft in my direction, or some enchanted fairy-tale glory to envelop my being.
I seek out good things, and drain myself in sharing those feelings of worthiness and compassion with others, yet they continue to be pointless, unrecognized, wholly detrimental to my surprisingly fragile self-esteem, and best of all, unrequited.
I don't know how many times I will have to reiterate to myself via the written word that I have issues with reciprocation. There is a level of charity that has been surpassed, and is now simply an arrogant, advantageous sort of rite, I think. Something that others can chuckle at in its simplicity, but something that draws me deeper and deeper into falling away from interaction with anyone.
On that chipper note, I remain far from depression- it's loneliness.
Plain, simple, and blatant. Loneliness.
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