Labels Can Be Quite Useful

(When they’re self- or co-applied)

So I talked a while back about how calling myself an extrovert made me a lot more outgoing. That’s still true, and I’ve found that I’ve been generally a lot happier since figuring that out. I suppose labels are partially to blame for the original problem, of course.

If I hadn’t called myself an introvert, would I still have had such intense social anxiety? I think I would have, if only because I don’t think I knew the word ‘introverted’ until after my social anxiety developed. However, I do think having that label made it more difficult to fight the anxiety.

So that’s one label.

I recently found another label for myself. Kind of. I’m unsure of the exact label, but it’s somewhere in the spectral essence of asexual/demisexual. If I gave it a rating from 1 to 10, with 1 being asexual and 10 being allosexual, I would put myself at a 2.86 (though that number is lowering the more I think about it).

Basic term definitions: An asexual is one who does not feel sexual attraction. A demisexual is one who only feels sexual attraction to those they have developed an emotional connection with. An allosexual is one who feels sexual attraction, which is what most people are. (There are more in between a- and allosexual, but I’m not going to go into them since they’re not relevant). Sexual attraction is the desire to have sex with someone.

That last one is the thing that really matters. See, I can’t remember ever wanting to have sex with anyone. Ever. In fact, I don’t understand why anyone would. I can’t even really comprehend it. For me, I would much rather talk, cuddle, kiss, etc. Apparently most people will randomly see someone in public and think that they’re hot. That’s just weird to me. I don’t even understand the concept of ‘hot’.

This whole idea then feeds into something that’s come up a few times with my family and me. I’ve often said that I don’t understand aesthetic beauty like others seem to. If you show me a ‘beautiful’ sunset, I can appreciate its beauty as a conceptual beauty. It’s cool how the photons from the sun refract through the atmosphere, producing these colors, but the colors themselves are not all that interesting to me. The only time the colors impress me are when they are out of the ordinary, and even then it’s the strangeness that I like, not the color itself.

I’m not entirely sure how closely these are linked, though, since I do appreciate human beauty. While I won’t see someone and think that they’re hot, I might think that they’re super beautiful, but I think they are very different things (like I said, I don’t understand ‘hot’ well enough to say). But then, if I do consider someone beautiful, it doesn’t affect my interactions with them any more than anything else.

Musings complete. I’m bad at conclusions.


Being an Extrovert is Fun

…When there are people around.

Winter break is coming up, and that means I’ll be back home. And by home I mean not college. Considering most of my friends are college friends, that means I won’t be around most of my friends.

Were I still unaware of my extroversion, I wouldn’t mind. Rather, I wouldn’t know to mind. As it is, I know what’s going to happen. I’ll get home, and I’ll probably survive until Christmas, and then maybe a few days after that I’ll enter a depressive state, because that’s what happens when I don’t people enough.

I suspect I’m actually being quite generous with how long it will take because I’ve gotten to that point over the course of an afternoon almost every Thursday because I don’t have any scheduled peopling that day except my morning class. I usually plan my dinner around when I know my friends will be eating so that I don’t go completely insane.

So I’ll go home, and at the latest I’ll enter a depressive state a few days after Christmas. Going to karate and church will help, usually for a day in my experience, but that still leaves gaps. Chances are the few friends I do have back home will be busy because they tend to have more of a life than I when we’re home.

I’m looking forward to break since I will have time to edit my writing, but I’m not looking forward to break because I won’t want to edit my writing because apathy is the primary symptom of people-withdrawal.


Also doesn’t help that life is still strange.

I Hate Prophetic Dreams

I lied about life is strange, so here, have a poem. Mind you, it’s not fun. I’d appreciate prayer for the subject of the poem.

I Hate Prophetic Dreams
You’re in a hospital bed
With a single friend by your side
And I’m on the other end
Of a phone 300 miles away.
You texted, “Call me”
Half an hour ago, but I didn’t
And then when I did,
You didn’t answer
Because you were bleeding
With shattered glass on the floor
And a single friend by your side.
She says, “I’m glad you called,”
And “Come visit soon,”
But we both know I won’t
Because it’s just a dream
And it’s ending soon.
But when it does,
I barely know it’s over
And my first thought is
Absolute devastation.
So I text you in the haze of sleep
“I just had a dream that you attempted suicide,”
And you ask, “Are you feeling ok?”
“Have you told anyone else about this?”
But I haven’t.
You say, “I would never do that,”
But was that another lie?
Because you tell me now
“I was in a really, really dark place,”
You say, “I am and was
A suicide risk.”
You say, “I’m getting better,”
But how can I not worry
When I know how this ends?
Because you were bleeding
With shattered glass on the floor
And a single friend by your side.


I don’t compliment people a whole lot. Part of this is that I tend to find achievements more valuable than inherent ‘being’s–a fault I am (obviously) aware of–for myself and so compliment the things people do rather than the people themselves. The other part of why I don’t compliment people is that I am highly aware of all the possible outcomes of saying any particular thing.

Continue reading Compliments

Silly Little Laugh

Oh look, another poem. It’s interesting how one can twist the truth in the creation of art.

Silly Little Laugh

Silly little laugh
Is how it likes to say,
“Hello, my friend, it’s me again
Why don’t I come inside?”

It rushes ‘round the space
Knocking things from their place
As if to say, “You don’t need this,
Today we’re going away.”

Though I protest and try my best
The imp won’t be dissuade.
It knows me well, and better yet:
The one inside the picture frame

The one thing left upon the wall
The single thought left undisturbed
Your silly little laugh I heard
Once upon a distant time