This is undoubtedly the product of pure solipsistic delusion, but these are the kinds of things that keep me awake at night with an exposed nerve at my core, thinking maybe I should quietly disappear—to give up on other individuals altogether and live alone in a small studio and find a job that obviates any real interpersonal connection.

However dismally, it’s liberating in the idea that I won’t have to be burdened with finding anyone in the future because, all things being equal, they will all more than likely be happier and more appropriately paired with somebody else.

Normally, with a particular class routine, you know when you’ll be on campus and you eventually become accustomed to seeing the same people each day at the same times. This, however, was a timeframe during which I’m generally not on campus this quarter.

Walking to the university services building, I looked up from my feet and saw him, my ex-girlfriend’s boyfriend, walking in the opposite direction. I felt that, out of courteousness, I should flash a half-smile and give a nod. Make eye contact, or something. Before I knew what I was doing, though, I was taking the check I was on my way to deposit and my wallet out of my pocket and fiddling with them in my hands, looking down at them as if they were of some greater immediate importance.

I suppose I just don’t have the kind of nebulous fortitude it requires to look my failures in the eye and acknowledge they exist, rather than pretending to have something incredibly interesting inside my wallet.

If you do in fact believe everything you just wrote, if all of that is the one-hundred percent truth as you see it, then only this remains: why not me? That is the one piece of minutiae from this whole fucking stupid sordid ordeal that I’ve been battling with in my own head for months and months ad infinitum. You never gave me any reasoning or even any excuses. You just simply lost interest and peaced out and you took all of my self-worth with you when you did.

[...]

So the question is, what is wrong with me? If I am in fact all the things you say I am, and you believe yourself when you say them, then why wasn’t I worth it? What is better about [redacted]? Besides the fact that you chose beforehand that he was worth it not to constantly belittle, insult and start arguments with.

—what I’m really asking is not actually a question directed specifically at her. The question I’m really asking is much deeper and more serious than that. The question I’m really asking is about the entire human race, and it amounts to What makes any other human being—anywhere, ever—worth it?

This is not an easy question, concept, thought to explain.

What I’m trying to say is that, at this point in time, it’s hard to see myself with anyone else, ever again. That sounds melodramatic. Try to understand. This is not about drama or blogging or attempting to be noticed for outlandish statements (I promise). It’s just a very terrifying thought. What makes someone marryable? How do you ever decide to “settle down” with another human being? What makes them worth it? Why? What does it even mean to “settle down” in any real, tangible way anyway? Some of this probably involves the factor of when (that is to say, temporal location/situation). Most certainly it does.

I can’t see myself with anyone else ever. Maybe because she broke me. Maybe because I now fail to trust other human beings to do right by me, women specifically (because, let’s be honest, other men have exactly zero stake in me romantically). Maybe I’m a basket case, a total crackpot who cannot get a grip long enough to sustain a functional relationship with someone. Maybe all of the above. I don’t know.

But what is it that makes a person worth it? Worth the enormous amount of infinite effort to keep them in your life. Ultimately, as much as I would rather not admit, perhaps it does come down to a self-worth issue: I am not worth the effort to keep me in your life (according to me), therefore you must not be either, for me.

Life is hard, you guys.

I know there’s a wonderful person in you that I was allowed to see glimpses of, but ultimately was not mine to experience. I hope you learn to show more and more of this part of you to the men who love you in the future and to all of the people you meet. If you do, you’ll have a tremendous impact on many very fortunate people.

There is good in all of the people I’ve met. In all of the people who’ve ever hurt me. This I know. I try my absolute hardest not to be heartless, I do. But I have deep fears that what that means is that my whole life I will be steamrolled by the people who don’t have heart enough for me.

I say all this, of course, and quote this penultimate paragraph of the final email that I caved and decided to send her today. But if you read the rest of the email—fully nine paragraphs—berating her for her treatment of me, you might begin to think otherwise.

I should learn when to just leave it well enough alone, I guess. I’m picking these lessons up as I go, I promise you.

I am still not sure where that leaves me.

I will leave it at this: I am not sure any longer if I believe that they are worth it, whatever “it” is supposed to mean and all banality of statement aside.

(And I promise I don’t blame women, Republicans, or the Baby Boomers like I usually do.)

Why do I even bother?

EDIT: I probably shouldn’t remove posts once I’ve posted them, once they’ve been read. So I’m not going to in this case. But I want to recant.

I have not yet been openly challenged about the content of this post by the not-so-slyly alluded to party here (whom I highly doubt even reads this that often, if at all), but I’ve become aware that these kinds of statements rely on a large amount of information and backstory to which any casual reader, sadly, is not privy. This out-of-context nature makes these kinds of complaints unfair, whether the person they pertain to reads them or not. And that’s not to imply that my complaints are fair to begin with, because they aren’t. People have any number of reasons for doing what they do and my complaints only highlight that my needs aren’t being met. I just happen to forget sometimes, like all of us, that my needs are not the only needs that exist in this world.

I never made any promises that my personal blog would not be petty or self-indulgent, but—in my defense—you, dear reader, should expect at least some level of that kind of thing in anyone’s writing, especially so in a medium as treacherously unedited as the weblog. I don’t say that to try to alienate you or tell you something stupid and cocksure like, “If you don’t like what you see here don’t read it.” I just don’t want you to come here with the wrong expectation about what you are actually going to get. This is where I feel the need to apologize for that—for who I am pretty much, I guess—but I’ll spare us both.