Give me a list of facts to organize, a theory to prove wrong or right, or a group of numbers to arrange in the most logical order and I will be comfortable. Give me a hard drive or a stick of RAM or a PCI card to install, a catalytic converter to replace, or a block to bore out and I will be fine. But put a heartbroken girl in front of me, and I've proven time after time that I am not capable of showing any sympathy whatsoever.
I made a girl cry last night. I took her from being a bit depressed to straight up bawling her eyes out and asking for a ride home within ten minutes, all in the name of "figuring her out."
Situations like these are not for me. I wanted to help her; I wanted to find out why she was hurting. I didn't want to make things worse. And now I'm angry.
Very angry. She was my friend, one of the few, and now she probably hates me. I don't make friends very often; too many people piss me off unintentionally. I didn't want to lose her last night but I did because I am wholly incapable of showing even the slightest bit of sympathy or compassion to another human being, especially when they really need it. It's not like I haven't tried to change myself, to make myself try to understand what other people are going through, but this only seems to make things worse. I start asking pointless questions or make insensitive statements to "get a reaction" out of someone, to "figure them out." I need to understand.
And with every failed attempt at a functional relationship I grow to hate myself more and more. I push away the people that might care and hide at the bottom of a bottle of pills, behind a quarter ounce of Sour Diesel or in the hollowed insides of a fifth of Sailor Jerry.
I'm not looking for pity here. I don't want your attention and I don't want to wallow. I just want to change.