08 Sep 2010, 21:40:33
I had an appointment today with the psychiatrist (I think that's what he is). Two things came up.
First, it appears they've finally found someone who does AS/Autism diagnoses so he's going to refer me to them. Knowing what was actually wrong used to be fairly important to me - now it's not really (more on why that is later). To be honest, if I've got a problem in that direction then I've got something to partially blame for why I'm alone (along with myself), if I've not then I've got nothing to blame except solely myself. Either way I am *still* alone with no way to "solve" that - I can't come up with any ways now (I've tried pretty much anything which I can see having a chance), knowing what's wrong with me isn't going to help that.
Second, I've tried everything I can think of to get back what I "felt" when I was in love with her and nothing's worked (nothing's even come close). So, as far as I'm concerned the only answer at the moment is "happiness" - I find someone to love, or "death" (assuming I can find a way that is actually likely to be successful ["the pills, they do not work"]). As such, I don't really care about anything.
When the doctor mentioned these specialists I pointed out that, to be honest, I really find it hard to care, for both the above reasons. To this he replied that "it must seem that world doesn't care either". I've never expected, or been aware of, the world "caring" about me anyway. I guess the only thing I've ever expected was a "fair shot at life" (not that I've ever actually thought about it). I guess I got that - I'm not physically disabled, or mentally (ie. special needs), I'm pretty sociable (in very small groups, things break down in larger ones) people keep saying "you've a nice guy" (usually verbatim...) so the world provided it's side of things - the "fair shot", I just fucked up mine somewhere - hence I'm alone. The trouble is that I don't know what I did wrong, or where, or how to do it right instead.
Before writing this I flicked through a newspaper. It contained a story on a guy who'd stabbed and strangled his girlfriend because she'd called out an ex-boyfriends name during sex (she wasn't having an affair), another who'd killed his wife and burned her body. The last was about a "homeless" beggar who had been fined for deception. The reason for the fine (and inverted commas)? - he lived with his *girlfriend*. Every thief, criminal and general low-life has someone - what is so wrong/unlovable about me that means I have to suffer being alone?
A final observation: almost everyone I've come across who says "love isn't everything" or "you'll find someone eventually" already *has* someone they love.
