Humans Are Social Anim—

Forget the clichés. Instead, grow a pair. Of legs. A pair of strong legs. And just pick it up, baby. No matter what. Okay?

And yes, I know. It feels impossibly hard. Believe me, it took me till about a year ago, so all of my years, minus the first two heavy-hitting decades, to realize I’ve made it through. Because all that time, I kept telling myself it wasn’t a big deal: I’d had a roof over my head, food on my plate, and a decent education. But now I see it: if you’re handed that by a clenched fist, it will still feel like a punch.

You see, bullies at school don’t hurt much when you’ve got your own private bully at home raising you. I was not the original target of mine — my mother was. And the fist broke her. Eighteen years later, a well-intentioned psychoanalyst interrupted what she may have identified as me excusing or romanticizing her suicide: “She abandoned you,” and then I understood. She rallied for normal, she could never understand. See what I say about clichés now?

Look, I don’t like to talk about it. I’d much rather talk about you or wild and less wild cats, the issue of water, musical counterpoint, blood sugar spikes, the big three in astrology, asset allocation models, monism, the early modern period — believe me, the list does go on…

It could be due to the lack of privacy in my childhood home, but I’ve always felt unsafe about keeping a journal, so I’m scribbling this down in a barely filled 20-year-old notebook with a cover illustrated with THE ATTACK OF THE 50 FT. WOMAN. Drop the zero and you get me. But I can put up a fight, too: once a homeless man unadvisedly caught my jaw with his elbow to try to snatch my backpack in midtown Rio de Janeiro, and the seconds-long interaction ended with him running away from a flip-flop-wielding me. I’m not kidding — there were witnesses, people I once knew and called friends.

I know better now. Not regarding unruly homelessness — I reckon if we allow that to happen to people, we’re putting us all at risk, huh? I meant friends. I only recently realized that all this time, there haven’t been any. Unless by friends you mean people you share time and space and stories with. Truth be told, I appreciate all beings, whether they hail from the animal, vegetable, or mineral kingdom, but things get tricky when it comes to humans. I love them, but I don’t actually like being around them. Because most believe their costumes make them, and the plot is given by somebody else. I can’t turn a blind eye and just chill. I guess if you stare at malice in a familiar face when you’re starting out, you either get stuck in a denial loop or you get a pass, one that will take you past any kind of mask. So even if you wanted to play this game, you won’t be able to, because in order to play you can’t know you’re playing.

Don’t worry if you’re still at it; you’ll figure this out gradually and then suddenly, much like how Mike Campbell went bankrupt in The Sun Also Rises. Only here you’ll gain by losing, see? If you don’t know if you do, maybe I can help you.

Make a list.

Take down every platitude, all conventional wisdom, whatever people call common sense, which all fall under the communal categories of: family, career, friendship, weekend leisure, physical health, mental health, vacation.

Stare long and hard at every single one of those items and practice saying thank you but no thank you to each out loud.

Once you move into actual action, though, it is advisable to tone down your senses because they will rattle before the two greatest challenges you will most likely face: people asking why not and shaming, blaming, or playing you for it, and the sense at hand being very appealingly stimulated. And by toning down I don’t mean getting sedated, as this will further enmesh perceptions and what was great empathy coupled with discerning boundaries will turn into a muddy mire of ultimate flogging. Believe me, I’ve been there more times than I can now count, and I’ve finally learned not to grovel to be made sense of. I won’t be. Ever. It may sound sad, but it's actually liberating. Think about it. No, feel it: if you’re a mystery, you’re free from having to give reasons. Now, when a small-talker or the occasional ill-intender shoots “Are you traveling for New Year’s” or any of those cookie-cutter queries, I simply answer “Maybe.” It works wonders, even if it leaves the asker wondering, which may very well happen with more hard-fact checks like “Are you married?”

So that’s what I do in the face of any social convention, that is, unless it’s called “official” and the mask is hammered real: I turn it down, I pick myself up, and I leave. Every time. I never wonder what if, I never look back. Just like that, but never that simple. I’m telling you; I’ve had to drag myself out many a time. It doesn’t really matter how, but if you really do it, you will start feeling that something actually has your back. Maybe it’s the non-acting you, the one who chose courage of the unknown over any familiar comfort and grew sturdy and reliable by having done so. Maybe it’s something else, something beyond any reasonable understanding. It is possible. But I won’t talk about that. I’m through. I’m struggling to make it to a thousand words so I can send this out, and I’m already feeling self-conscious about telling people what they should or should not do. After all, anything goes, right? But lately, when I get in those shrugging moods, I wonder if maybe it could help someone push through… After all, here I am, having pushed through for so long, and I’m feeling good now. But that's enough. I won't be talking anymore.

Well, maybe some other time. Because if we keep moving on boldly, who knows, maybe our paths will cross at some point and we’ll subvert that cliché into a singularity by actually becoming friends. It is possible, too.