There’s that one element I seem to be missing.

There’s the world, and then there’s me. As much I enjoy lots of the people I know and love, I almost never feel really “connected” to anyone. I can socialize, but there’s always that one element I seem to be missing. I never really feel like I’m a part of anything; conversations, movies, videogames even. They’re all just there, and I’m here. I want that feeling: the feeling of being absorbed into a simple conversation or a movie. The feeling people get when watching sports, movies, and having a good conversation. That feeling of living it and being a part of it, whatever that “it” may be. I was once talking with someone about how I find porn boring becuase it’s just images on a screen. She suggested that I imagine like they really happened, like it’s right there in front of me. I was confused by this, because I would still feel the same; I wouldn’t feel like a part of it. It’d be there, and I’d be here. It’s like that with most everything, and few things can break through and engross me. Music. I can feel music, I can be a part of music, and I can “be” music. I good example would be the first time I watched The Phantom of the Opera. I was so into the expereince that I had blocked out everytihng else. I was a part of this fictional opera house world, in the audience, and enjoying every note. Is that the feeling? A feeling that was so intense, the fire alarm went off during a climatic song and I jumped a foot into the air off my feet. That was it, that is the feeling I want. The music, the dramatics, the passion…I was finally in it. Then goes the fire alarm, smacking me back into the real world. A world sapped of emotion, and ripe with ennui. I was back in the world, the real one. I wasn’t back into the world I wanted until we restarted from the point at which we left off, and waited a few minutes to be pulled back in. I can hardly describe how much I longed for that feeling once more, if even for a second. The gripping feeling, and for once, the lack of emotional apathy. I was emotional, because I was amassed into a world full of emotions I finally understood. They were sung emotions. Sung clearly enough that even I, a man who can hardly recognize when he’s anything besides confused or angry, understood with complete clarity. I fely symapathetic for a character, which again is beyond rare, seeing as how I hardly attach any emotional value to real people. The phantom was sad and lonely, and his ignorance of social correctness led to his behavior. He didn’t know he was incorrect in the way he acted, he was me. At the time of me watching it, I was in the darkest hour of what was to be a two year long depression. It was February, and I was in the midst of recovering from an event so aggravating thinking about it almost brings me to tears. My personality is, well… unusual at best. I have my seasons, as does the rest of the world. Winter is always especially depressing for whatever reason, the exact reason why I have no positive memory of Valentine’s Day. Every year since middle school, I’ve managed to screw up somehow in getting a girlfriend on this holiday. Then again, up until this year, I’ve always been depressed during the winter. Or, since puberty. Going on, last year’s winter was intersting. I, as usual, was intersted in someone. I had known her for a few months, and she was actually in the class with me. By saying she was in my homeroom, who it is would be a bit too obvious, but it was fairly obvious to begin with I’m sure. I had made a few miserable attempts at flirting or asking her out, but she always said she was busy. IB does that to people, or so I convinced myself. Well, I thought, maybe chocoalte well win her over. I bought some, and gave it to her. “That sounds so nice!”, you’re probably thinking. Well it wasn’t. I know any “normal” guy would’ve been romantic or overtly desparate. I was vague. With my shyness and timdity at the time, the plan I had thought up in my head fell apart after the first step. I had planned to sit down in homeroom with her (as usual), and give her the chocolate in a confident way and proceed to ask her out. Something like that. What really happened? I sat down (at least that part didn’t fall apart), and I put the chocolate in front of me. I looked at her, the face she had was about to go from confused to utterly priceless in comical retrospect. I calmly pushed the chocoalte in front of her, while looking down, and uttered “Here.” After at least a minute of dancing around the room with my eyes, occasionally glancing and waiting for a reaciton of some kind, she asked me a question. “Did you get some for _____ too?” I simply replied no, the feeling of confusion and anger were added to the omnipresent sense of sadness almost instantly. Unfortunately, those were the only emotions I really “felt” at the time. I failed to mention that when I’m intersted in a girl, she almost always starts off as an obsession. A beautiful maiden revisiting my thoughts and flooding my world with joy and happiness. That world still remains to be a false one, and the real world made that all too obvious on Valentine’s Day. I was socially inept, still am, always well be. Regardless of how much I act like somehow who can manage to fit in, the real Ben never can. I’m just here, a phantom.Phantom, from Phantom of the Opera. Sad, lonely, and obsessed. The only feelings I felt then and feel now, are mostly in my head. And while music has the power to make me feel connected, it’s not the only thing. Drama, human flesh on stage with raw emotion pouring out right in front of me. Drawing me in to it’s world, a world that is so close to real I could literally walk up and be a part of it. But like everything else, it’s always short lived. But music can always be there, playing back in my head. I can crawl into a dark corner of my mind and play music all day long. No electronics needed, just the jukebox of memory. Imagining orchestras, fiddling my thoughts away, and reliving my favorite songs. Only in my head, no one else is there with me.No one else can sit in my mind, and relax for a while. Meditate with me as I sit and ponder the intricate working of a social structure that people seem to know naturally. I still have trouble understanding the opposite sex, even my own too. People make no sense, and that’s the only thing I have in common with most. I can sit down all day and watch the world go by, and feel nothing but confusion as I search for logic in the way people are. There is none, people are people. It can’t be true. I’m looking for something, and I know it’s there. There is an explanation, a reasoning, behind people. Maybe if I finally understand them, I can bridge the emotional gap and finally feel them. Empathy, do I really want it? Well understanding people really help me connect on a plane I hardly know exists? Well understanding why people cry about death help me in feeling the same? Could viewing regret help me feel it? I doubt it, but I search anyways. All I have left in this world I want to feel is sex, and an emotional connection with another human. Those aren’t the same thing, and I need to remember that.