The Art of Being Alone

The word anti-social gets a lot of bad reputation because of its strong association with the assumption of one's lack of effort to socialize with others. While there are many different definitions of this word on the internet, the somewhat negative stigma attached to it is pretty hard to shake off regardless of your chosen definition.

Even with such negative impression the word gives, I find it hard to deny the fact that this word may accurately describes a big part of my life. Having problems in being social isn't something that i'm ashamed of. My parents were not exactly 'people person' either when I was growing up, so it was hardly a surprise that my teen phase was socially depressing. Unfortunately this attribute continued to cover a large chunk of my early-adulthood social life as well.

While many different forms of anti-social behaviour have been deemed undesirable, very little attention has been given on the reason(s) why one might engage in such behavior. Often having too much free time in my hands, I constantly replayed my acts of such behavior in my head and most of the time I couldn't figure out why i had done such things. 

One of them that I can still remember clearly is this one : I was asking for my friend/neighbour who lived literally just across the street for me. Her mom answered the door and told me he was away. I knew she was lying. I don't know why she was. I didn't take that very well. So like what any normal kid would do in such situation, I decided to sit right in front of my house gate watching my friend's house, where I could basically see if anyone come or leave. I think I was sitting there for hours. I don't know why I did it. I think I was trying to make a point that I wasn't stupid enough to be lied to. I was a weird kid.
 

Here's another one : My friends were trying to get me out of the house to play soccer with them, but I was not in the mood. So they started shaking and banging my house gate. I got pissed. One of them tried to open the gate, so I forcefully closed the lever, accidentally hurting his hand. He was bleeding. I was stunned. I just stood there looking at his bleeding hand. I didn't say sorry. I didn't say anything. I thought it was his fault that he got himself hurt in the first place. He was screaming, calling me an asshole and eventually left with the others. I went back inside. 

Looking back now, there were so many factors that contributed to my anti-social behavior. Insecurity was definitely a big part of it. I wanted to be accepted but I didn't know how so I got frustrated. And I had no friends to vent to so everything was just sort of accumulating inside. My parents were too busy being parents and incapable of lending me their ears. I was too insecure about my insecurities.

Even though life got better eventually for me, the same feeling of alienation and inability or lack of drive to socialize with people never really went away. Every now and then I had the urge to go out and meet new people or talk to old friends, but I was always more comfortable sitting on my bed playing guitar, or reading a book. It's not really about not being with other people, but it's about being with yourself.

I'm 26 years old and I don't know if this was something I should be worried about. I am simply venting, and not really trying to make any point. Being alone is not that bad.