Lone Wolf

Here is my life now - There is a collection of family and friends who inhabit graves - I have a collection of tombstones or memorial markers as my loved ones. Consequently the people I know the best are radio personalities or journalists on the one hand to film celebrities on the other. These are one sided arrangements. I know them but they do not even know of my existence. They do not know my name or where I reside. They don't know my lifes strange history... Then the people who know me best - the Aye-Gents of the FB-eye know me quite well but I do not know them. Or at least they once did. They know my names - my life's history - perhaps better than me. They have their assessments their opinions and even to some degree their experience with me. I cannot say that about them. I do not know their real names. I do not even know for certain where they work or for who exactly. I know nothing about them and in fact as far as I am concerned in their minds they do not actually exist for I cannot call them by name or find them. They know my name and my worth and where and how to get a hold of me. They have their assessments of course and their conclusions and I have been filed away and shelved. But there are things they don't know despite perhaps knowing me better than I can say I know myself.
When your inventory of yourself is like mine - like this - That your loved ones lay below memorial stones and the people you know don't know you and you don't know the people who know you best - you are as I am a mad dog or as they say a lone wolf. So when I watch the news on occasion as I do and I try not to - I fear I understand those people who inexplicably become mass - well - you know - the bad guys who for good reason are vilified. Sadly I somehow relate to them. But let me underscore that I have no desire to hurt anything or for that matter anyone. Although I am not a vegetarian I am conflicted about eating meat especially meat and dairy products from factory farms - those animal Auschwitz from where our food we eat comes from. My own depression and mental health struggle just means I connect to people who have their own demons and their own battles. For chrissakes my very own sister served three life sentences before dying in an old Ohio prison - so forgive me if the perpetrators of social carnage somehow make some sense to me. Perhaps I understand the personal devastation that leads people to implode in such away as to take down others in their own life tragedy. But it ends there.
What I don't understand though is how I ended up in this corner. A corner of isolation. Yet here I am. an assortment of grave markers as my family friends. Abandoned by agents awhile ago. Stuck with the company of radio and internet and the personalities there within to bond with in one sided ways.
I've sent up flares - I have asked for help. I have worked hard to get through a mental health program to get functional enough to hold a job and not be a danger to myself or anyone else. And yet where am I. Alone. Off on my own. Disconnected. Its hard to keep a strong face in the middle of that. It is baffling to talk to people who do not have these challenges. I am painfully alone. It feels like I live under a curse. In reality I just live in the shadow of a mental health and gut condition I do not understand.
Then there are the assortment of therapists I have seen - those are also one sided social equations. They know me intimately - I only know their name and their professional qualifications and what little they tell me about their life outside of their profession. There is no social reciprocity in my life. I detest going to self check outs when stopping in at a grocery store - to be talked at by a machine I am scanning my purchases from. So I wait in long lines to go through a check out with an actual person for the small talk. Its a pseudo social moment but better than a machine and better than none at all.
It just shouldnt be this easy to end up this way and it shouldn't be this hard to change it.
I have done the best I could - I failed at most things I tried. I have to live with this - those men who know me aren't going to step in - they are not going to do the generous thing and pierce the electronic veil that separates their reality from mine - And though I hope otherwise I know better. And I know I won't have a relationship to correct this trajectory of misery. I make the best of it. I am thankful for my house and car and job and that is about as interesting as my life right now gets.
It beats thinking about the unrepentant diarrhea I am prone to. It is better than thinking there is a curse or that major depression and PTSD in one form or another dictates my mental and emotional structures.
I just live with a lot of regret and a lot of grief and a lot of isolation. And that is no reason to talk to a current or former agent of information.