You can feel alone in a crowded room. True statement. I often feel that way. Maybe I’m not the friendly type. Not true. I tend to talk too much. I spend hours and days alone or with kids then when I’m finally around people I dominate the conversation. I’m loud. I learned to give speeches without a microphone, to speak to the back of the room and be heard. Projection, that’s the word I’m looking for. I learned to project and enunciate. So when I’m in a room and make a connection, I’m there.
But when I don’t make a connection with someone. It feels like I’m invisible. I’m the loneliest person in the world. Is this a universal feeling or am I unique? Is loneliness a universal truth? The universal pain that seems unique to each of us but is felt by everyone?
But loneliness can be bliss. I’m wishing for it right now as some child rolls and bangs that toy car on the bleachers. I’m trying to write, kid! Take it somewhere else, OK? No the world doesn’t work that way.
The way I’d like the world to function is so much fantasy. I dream that I can reach out with my mind and connect to someone else. I’m a super mind agent. I’m the secret weapon. I don a new personality, a new body. I am Cody. I can walk through the minds of the enemy. I cast doubt within their thoughts. I am that special snowflake.
When I walk through my fantasy world, I find that I’ve forgotten my own name. I am only Cody. I have a bodyguard who lives with me. My mind is special. I can do things, create things like no other. I live within a large compound. My house has bullet proof glass, secret doors and tunnels. There are bunkers, cameras and sensors. No one can come close without the guards detecting them. That is what I am told. It is not what I believe. I trust my senses more than I trust the technology. I designed the technology. I know how to defeat these modern marvels of wizardry.
And now back to our regularly scheduled reality. I don’t like most people. They bore me. They have agendas. Even those with whom I can converse on a technical level, have agendas. I am not interested in agendas. I don’t have an agenda. I’ve lied to you again. I have an agenda. Everyone has an agenda. I just can’t put mine into words. It’s a subconscious agenda. I do things for a reason. That’s an agenda. Even when I don’t want to have an agenda, I have an agenda. My agenda is to not have an agenda. See how that works? Yes, I’m making silly little jokes to amuse myself.
As Cody, I don’t want to design technological wonders that will defend our soldiers in the next conflict. I don’t want to safe guard our nation against the enemies that beat at our door. I want to design small houses and comfortable chairs to sit on the deck. I want to carve wood into shapes and trace the patterns of its grain. But there are many builders of houses and chairs. I am not needed for those agendas. I am needed to think as the enemy thinks. To walk through the mind of the enemy and find his stumbling blocks. But who is the enemy? Tonight the enemy takes the form of the very company I created. Tonight, I sit with a glass of scotch staring at my reflection in the windows. I know that there are more men out there in the darkness. I will drink more. Perhaps, I will walk naked through my house. The luxury of open blinds is most often enjoyed by those that live far from others.
The scotch begins to sooth my jangled nerves. I do not like others in my house. Not because it is my house, not because I feel possessive of this house. I don’t like others in my house because I forget that they exist. I wander about. I scratch my ass, my boobs and up my nose. I forget to close the bathroom door. I am used to the loneliness. I do not like others in my house because I disturb them.