Normally, this is where I would apologize for my hiatus and make some promise to write more frequently in the future. I think it would be better for all of us if I just skipped that part and moved on.
It was in Disneyland, of all places, that I discovered a flaw so fundamental in my personality that I was shocked that I had never noticed it before. And before you ask, yes, the setting was crucial to this discovery. It was in the happiest place on earth that I discovered why it is so difficult for me to be happy.
As my friends and I were on various rides, I found myself doing what I always do- craning my neck to see their reactions to things as they were completely engrossed in each moment. Then I wondered, why wasn’t I as focused as they were? Why wasn’t I drawn in? Was it because I wasn’t as interested, or because I wouldn’t let myself be interested?
Then I had a sinking realization. Since they were fully enjoying what they were doing, they weren’t doing something that I’ve been doing on rides for as long as I can remember: actively looking for the mechanics behind the ride, the edges where the fantasy and reality failed to overlap and revealed itself to me. Even in the darkness of Space Mountain, I locked my eyes on the tracks and the equipment, not the (fake) starry sky around me. I couldn’t suspend disbelief for even a second.
Not even in Disneyland, not even on a roller coaster, not even in the happiest of company, could I let my analytical mind rest. No, I was constantly searching for any mistakes, anything that could break the spell intended for me.
I’m not sure it’s necessary to explain how this tendency of mine applies to the rest of my life, for it’s probably quite obvious to you now. And that is why I am difficult.
And no, the irony that today is Valentine’s Day has not escaped me.
