The great sages say that no man is an island. But the more I become engaged with my own vocation, the less I become privy to the concerns of others. The signs were there from the very start: I never consider myself sociable despite the number of people associated with me.
Some say I come off as intimidating, or worse even downright snooty. I tend to show lack of interest when meeting new people. The habit of choosing those I speak cuts deep into my character. Though my ties with the high and mighty precedes my reputation. The truth is far from the make believe: I seldom make contact. I could be surrounded with frenzied groupies in a dance club or a booze party, but still, my world revolves around me.
This seclusion grew out of the need to protect myself. I am a people-pleaser and my devotion to friends prevails over my personal conveniences . It is easy to abuse my kindness, and in the past, people have taken it for granted. There used to be no limit as to what favors I could do, until I realized that I was the one getting left behind.
Miserably.
This has been the recurring theme of my earlier associations. Either I was the clown (the one who gets bullied) of one group, or the clown (laughing stock) of another. Ignoring my place only fanned the resentments. It was only in the past five years that I learned to stick with new people only because we have the same world-views, or because that person's habit of solitude resonates with mine.
Thus, the friendship I cherish now is mellowed with time. It requires no constant presence and demand much inattention. These ties age like wine, and grow out of need to care for one another. It is free to move from place to place, only to return to its spring to rekindle ancient memories. It is shaped by selfless sacrifices and nurtured by timely bonds. The depth of friendship is judged not by the times you have been together, but the years you were apart only to meet again and find that your bonds have become stronger.
I speak of this confession in part to explain my being incommunicado lately. Weeks would pass without telling those around me the details of my life. This confession also speaks about my lack of eagerness to venture forth and know new people.
You see, disinterest pervades when you know there is no need to search.
Lastly if I was an ass to some, consider the lessons I carry on my back: you never throw your life to someone you barely knew and you never grow attached to someone you haven't touched.
This is the policy of isolation: Beneath the icy indifference lies a thick layer of fuzzy affections you share only to those who patiently digs it.