She Is Not Serene

The lonely, like the fictive [writers], love one-way watching. For lonely people are usually lonely not because of hideous deformity or odor or obnoxiousness ... Lonely people tend, rather, to be lonely because they decline to bear the psychic costs of being around other humans. They are allergic to people. People affect them too strong. ... [an average lonely person] fears and loathes the strain of the special self-consciousness which seems to afflict him only when other real human beings are around, staring, their human sense-antennae abristle. He fears how he might appear, come across, to watchers. He chooses to sit out the enormously stressful ... game of appearance poker.



from 'E Unibus Pluram'
in A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again, David Foster Wallace.

She confesses she doesn't remember a single thing from Wallace's essay (she didn't even finish reading it, if memory serves); all she has is this excerpt, copied two years ago, tediously, by hand, onto her journal as she was curled up in her window alcove.

She'd copied it because when she first set eyes on it, she'd thought it seemed to be describing her. She is one of the lonely. And yes, she most unreservedly “[declines] to bear the psychic costs of being around other humans.”

Because she is selfish.

Because she wants to protect herself.

Because she does not think she’s strong enough to bear the strain and drain on her psyche.

Because all it takes is just a single drop to shatter the still surface and trigger endless concentric circles of ripples.

She is not a good friend - she’s never denied that - not at all a good human being. So she doesn’t understand why the handful of friends she has goes to her with their problems, with their broken hearts, with their dark secrets; sometimes, she even resents it.

When they talk about their problems, they might feel the better for it, but what about the person on the receiving end? Don’t they know, she fumes, how irresponsible they are, making her the bearer of their secrets?

How heavy it is, the burden thrust upon her, the burden of responsibility. She doesn’t even like being responsible for herself, much less being responsible for another person.

By the same token, she keeps everything to herself. Do unto others, she believes, so she is careful not to inflict any psychic trauma on others. But the others still go to her.

Why, for goodness sake, why? Because she seems so serene?

She only looks serene: she is not serene.

She is already struggling to maintain her balance, and balance is such a fragile thing. Keeping it together, treading water to keep from going under, making sure the masks don’t crack irreparably: she doesn’t need someone weighing her down.

She has a sister in the house who is clinically depressed; who holds shouting matches over the phone with an unknown party; who is either clinically depressed because of the shouting matches, or holds shouting matches because she is clinically depressed - but who, either way, fractures not only the peace, but also somebody’s sanity.

How do you stay afloat, nursing fractures, in the quicksand of despair? Barely.

So, all right:

You had an abortion? If you told her, she’ll not cry for you. Not anymore.

You want to kill yourself because you got dumped. If you told her, she’ll not fret about you. Not anymore.

You won’t help yourself. If you wouldn't try, she’ll not try. Not anymore.

You want to blame her? Call her selfish? Call her heartless.

Fine; blame her - she is selfish, and she really doesn't have a heart ... not one that works anyway.

You can do whatever you wish, but she’ll not let you fracture her psyche and her sanity anymore.

Because she is not a good friend - she’s never denied that - not at all a good human being.

Because she has decided she isn't one of the lonely. She is alone, and it is her preference to be alone, to stay alone.

Because when Mary Carpenter wrote and sang:

Do you ever let anyone near
Do you ever reach out with arms open wide
Do you ever jump in closing your eyes
Or are you one of the fortunate kind
Alone but not lonely,

it must've been about her. And she answers:

No.
No.
No.

... Yes.