Misanthrope

People who know me know that I am not a people person. I love humankind in general, I want the best for our species and hate to see anyone suffer in poor health and poverty. I love my family and my kids and want them to have the best in life and have the opportunity to shoot for their dreams.

But I just don't do well with real people in real life. Even at big family functions, with my mom and other family members at her house for a barbecue (for example), I feel awkward and weird and just want to go in the other room and read a book. Alone.

I communicate much better in text than I do with my voice. Even talking on the phone is a challenge for me, the words just don't come out of my mouth as well as they do out of my fingers. Facebook, Twitter, and my blogs are my main forms of communication, and were I feel most comfortable being myself.

I know there are some who feel offended by that and I'd say I'm sorry, but it's how I work, how I function. It's who I am. Especially as my disabilities worsen. I don't want to be around people. I don't want to talk to people. Even something like Skype, video-phone over the internet, holds no interest for me.

So please don't be offended if I don't call. Or Skype. Or even chat. I'm just not good at conversation. I'm not good at potlucks or get-togethers or parties. It just doesn't work for me.

I will, however, gladly talk through email, Facebook, Twitter, blog comments, and so on. Heck, I'll even write you a letter and send it through the mail (though getting to the post office is often difficult, since I can't drive) if you'd like (it will be typed, however, since my handwriting, bad to start with, had pretty much become illegible).

I am a misanthrope. I embrace it. It's me. It doesn't mean I hate people, it doesn't mean I have some kind of disease. I just don't do reality very well.