Part 3: Somewhere in the middle

I love Instagram, but it has a very damaging side to me. I see people meeting each other, interacting, tagging each other, and I get the constant feeling that people don't care about me, that nobody remembers I exist, and that I have to do something to remind them that I am in this world, and that they will only think of me if I remind them that I am still alive.

Sometimes I feel like, no matter what I do, it won't ever be enough.

I will never be that guy that people want to go out with for a fun night out.

I will never be the guy that is hot and popular, and everybody wants to date.

I will never be the guy everybody wants to headhunt and hire for a top job.

I will never be the guy that will make a difference in the world.

The truth is, I isolate myself, I have an antisocial job and I make myself unavailable, because ultimately I want to take control of the fact that, if things were different, it wouldn't make any difference. If I would be available, I would still never be the guy. I lie to myself, pretend that I don't do things because I can't, but deep down inside I know this is not the reason. That gives me comfort, because I'll always live with the belief that it could be different. It couldn't, actually. It wouldn't. I just hope my brain doesn't catch up with my clever stratagem, it has been working so well after all...

At the end of the day, I'm just another person in the world. Another face in the crowd. An ordinary guy, that one day will die and, even though (I hope!) some people would cry at my funeral, I'll be forgotten in a short period of time and life will go on, as nothing happened.

It's about time I accept this and stop fighting it. Because fighting it won't change it. So I have no other option, but to cope with it and move on. No superhero will fly in to save my day. I am my own superhero and I am the one who has to fight my battles, and my battles shouldn't give me time to dwell on whether my life means anything to anyone else. It means something to me. Despite everything I write - and whine - about it, I love my life. I love living, I love to be alive. And I think I have had a very good life so far. I have met amazing people, I have travelled to amazing places, I have done amazing things. And I don't want to die, not now, maybe not ever. I want to keep living, cause I enjoy life. I don't know how long my life will last, but I don't want to worry about that right now. When that moment comes, I will see what happens.

I do know, though, that I am not afraid of death. I am somehow fascinated by it, in a way that it makes me respect and love life in a very high level. We have to make the most of life because it will only happen once, and one day it will end. Living is amazing because it can last for a long time, or for a short time, but it can't last forever. Knowing that it will end is, somehow, one of the things that makes it worth it. I don't think I will ever be ready for the end, but I know I don't fear it either. I am prepared for it, not by defeatedly accepting my fate, but by trying to make the most of my life while I have it. I won't ever say goodbye, because I will always believe that there will be another day. 

*And here is where this piece will come to a halt. I tried to write different endings for it, but I honestly don't know how it will end. It will come to me at some point. Until then, I will keep writing about something else.

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