Why I hate being alone with myself

Recently I was pondering over how I behave when someone is around me and when they don’t.

When I was much younger than now, I used to think that the world was centred around me. Now, I must stop you from getting the wrong idea; it wasn’t like I thought of myself so highly and mighty; no mind you, I didn’t! I was actually feeling quite contrasting.

I used to think that someone (perhaps God) was playing with me. All of this (world and people) are actually illusions, and as soon as I close my eyes, they will seize to exist entirely, and whatever I was seeing with my open eyes, only that existed.

Eyes open = Show start

Eyes closed = curtains down

Now don’t laugh; actually, even I am as confused as you might be right now. but, coming back to it, this particular way of thinking process never left me fully. So I always have been thinking subconsciously that everyone and everything is fake. People are just acting; they don’t have any feelings, and secretly everybody is just plainly judging and mocking me behind my back.

As a result, I became what you call an introvert.

I stopped expressing myself to others.

I stopped showing my wounds, and as a result, they remained unattended.

I stopped showing emotions in public.

I closed my windows and gates and didn’t let anyone in, not even me, until recently I started writing.

I think part of that old me is still alive in my subconscious mind, so in fear of being judged wrongly, I act accordingly in their presence. I try to be a good man. But when I am alone, oh boy… that’s a whole different story.

I have spent 99.99% of my life being around people. And that was also inevitable because I live in the most populated country in the world and was born into a small, middle-class family. So I habitually act good around them. Why ? You may ask. Because I think of myself as a kind person, I want to care for people, and I can feel the pain someone else is feeling. My consciousness doesn’t allow me to even pretend to be bad and uncaring.

But in this whole process, I never got to know myself. When I am alone, I don’t know what to do. I ask myself if whatever I will be doing in my alone time really matters.

If no one is there to see me doing it, why does it matter if I do it at all? I might just enjoy/ indulge myself for the time being.

I haven’t gone full throttle in any activity that people can’t see, judge, or appreciate.

So when I actually get some alone time, I indulge in short-term pleasures like scrolling, playing addictive games on my phone, reading crappy web novels, binge watching movies and dramas, etc. (you name it, and I may have already done some of those things). In this way, I avoid being alone with my mind. I didn’t have to think anything about me.

I am destroying my life, and strangely, I know it, but I don’t do anything about it. Why? Because it’s easy not to.

I don’t think anyone will be reading this, but if you are reading this story, please give me some suggestions. Help me. I am at my wits end; I don’t want to live like this.

I have heard somewhere this that

Asking for help isn’t giving up, it’s refusing to give up

I am asking for help, and I refuse to give up.

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