Dani Evar

Winged Epistemic Solitude<br />
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I'm also an Aspie, with an usually poignant amount of epistemic solitude.<br />
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My name is Dani, and I love the Platonic, somewhat alienated name 'Evar'.<br />
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I'm an infinitely shy boy whose joy is sorrowful and whose sorrow is joyful, but here I hope my usual taciturn shyness won't take hold of me so much.<br />
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Mentally, I feel like I'm 92 years old, though I've just passed 'teenage' (merely passed) and am still struggling with 'puberty'.<br />
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I'm often pained and exalted at the same time by my own understanding of love and life; it's like being hurt by the pinions of your own wings while in singular flight.<br />
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The most sorrowful of souls is the one who genuinely understands the highest form of joy and compassion the most, though often the ecstasy happens very rarely. I can love this poignant frailty, this sensitive tissue of life, though most people are easily snide about it. And I would be happy beyond measure if I could help others cope with it.<br />
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Sometimes I want to see myself (my more superficial attributes, like certain facial expressions) hand in hand with my soul, but I can hardly stand it the way most people do.<br />
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More often it's like I'm standing on distant mountain tops, just wishing to drop on the grass-land world like the rain that I know. I feel myself far away from reflections, as if receding through the evenings. So my way of seeing myself is just easily different.<br />
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Or, sometimes (very rarely), when I do look into the mirror in a less shy manner, I wish to see something beyond the rough reflection... like when seeing through your transparent window, you see what's beyond it, and hardly your own face. Otherwise, I'm too shy with that part of myself. And I'm awfully shy with the world of people that can only see this external part of me, very roughly, and not peer right away into my depths.<br />
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Basically, I just long to see my soul also in the outer world, something like a burning piece of sun or the tender rain, something that is my real lucid self, but I'm not good at expressing myself other than through writing and painting, and the world is just too rough for one as mazy as me. I'm quite helpless with certain normal body gestures.<br />
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Being intensely aware of all this parks me off somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, and most people cannot really connect with me... as they talk without speaking to me, watch without seeing me, and touch without feeling me. But in nearly any situation, it's like I'm the one unable to connect with them, and the 'social blame' falls on me.<br />
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I've always been friendless, maybe because people cannot 'grasp' me, because, often, only something raw or rough is graspable, while I'm like... a stealth dissolving on the shore of a vast, silent ocean whose 'emptiness' disturbs them.<br />
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I'm not sad about it because what matters is whether you are your authentic self (I can just live completely alone in the Universe, you know, in the epistemic sense; as long as my existence is a creative, spontaneous, or a quiet, reflective, one). And then, additionally, what may also count is whether you have a soulmate or not, in a profound sense, and not merely a plethora of friends.<br />
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Being 'comorbid', I also have dyspraxia and I do enjoy (instead of 'suffer from') a severely creative, imaginative form of mild, still-functioning Schizophrenia, which is cool for clinical self-study.<br />
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Thank you all for existing,<br />
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Dani<br />
(Evar)<br />
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Philosophy, Clinical and Cognitive Psychology; Science, Art, History; Aliens, Animals, Plants, Universum

http://www.youtube.com/user/serenade66mist