My current lack of introspection is starting to alarm me. When you’ve gotten to the point where you feel like you can’t even be honest in your own blog that you treat like a secret diary because hardly anyone reads it anyway, this might be suggestive of a significant lack of openness.

I can’t even handle my own solitary truths.

Maybe I’ve crossed that threshold where I’m starting to experience paradoxical effects from the antidepressants. I’ve been feeling achingly lonely lately, for quite unfathomable reasons. Nothing has really changed in my life for the last three years now, so I don’t really understand why I should start feeling this way now. I’ve felt lonely a countless number of times in my life, but I don’t remember feeling this lonely when I wasn’t on meds. While driving home from work today, I started pondering what part of my life was possibly the loneliest, and I could think of quite a few episodes of misery, but even the worst parts, there were friends and family members around whom I could lean on, and who at times literally had to carry me.

Life really hasn’t been that bad to me. I don’t think I should feel this way, but there it is.

I think perhaps part of my lack of candidness is the fact that Google, Facebook, and Twitter (and FriendFeed) have totally linked everything together. Anyone with even the most minimal understanding of Google-fu can easily find my blog, and delve through the twisted and deranged wanderings of my somewhat diseased mind. The idea that all these grotesque revelations from the depths of my soul are completely available for the world to peruse at their leisure kind of gives me the heebie-jeebies. While I have posted a few personal tidbits on social media sites, I’ve done so with yet another layer of insulation laid atop the already tottering edifice of defense mechanisms that I built up around me, another set of filters behind the manifold of filters separating my quivering insides from the uncaring, snark-filled world, ready to pounce and re-tweet moments of risible weakness. When you lack self-confidence, the idea of leaving yourself vulnerable to people who don’t care does not seem very palatable.

My posts as of late have not been as raw, as honest as I’ve been capable of. I’m not really sure if I can get back to that level of candidness, because I’m beginning to suspect part of it is just an effect of aging. (Entropy always wins in the end.) Change becomes more difficult. Changing back starts feeling impossible.

There was supposed to be a point to this rambling, but I’ve completely forgotten what it was. Oh well. I’m going to post this anyway.