Tonight is one of those times when I just don't feel understood. I know I have a couple of people who say they love me and support me, but I am not understood. I know it is not because I am lacking in communication skills. Maybe it is something worse. Maybe I have gone invisible again or am just essentially unimportant. That's okay, I guess. The people who taught me that I am unimportant also inadvertently taught me how to make others unimportant as well. Lucky for me that I was smart enough to reverse-engineer the thing. Can you imagine how awful things would be for me if I didn't retain any of those 'mindfulness lessons'? I'll be fine. I just need to find a way to avoid being swallowed by the depression that is threatening to engulf and incapacitate me. That is why I have recently read over the laughable list of people I once thought I loved and could not live without. I found myself effortlessly adding current folks to that list and picturing a future in which I feel as ambivalent about them as I do about the folks who already belong on my List of Folly. This has made me consider that maybe I don't really love anyone. Maybe I never have. I'm thinking that is good and might be the only thing between me and the edge. That's alright by me. I need to be satisfied with being alone anyway. It's the only thing available and it's better this way anyhow. Especially since I recognize it for what it really is instead of trying to claim that detachment (depersonalization and derealization) is some sort of breakthrough cure in the area of mental and emotional health. It's no breakthrough, it's just easier. After the life I've had so far, I'm all about easy. Easy is good, so I'm going with it.