Aaaa

but i would like to add: “overhated animals” includes various insects, reptiles, arachnids, etc., by the way. not just the cute mammals and avians.

ants. mosquitoes. spiders. tarantulas. “creepy” spiders. everyday house spiders. flies. snakes. scorpions. centipedes, millipedes. moths. not just the “cute ones”. not just the “harmless ones”. no exceptions. all the little guys who aren’t valued as they deserve to be, who are often swatted, crushed and killed without hesitation, without a second thought.

This is something a lot of us go through. We might have interests, hobbies, or routines we’ve picked up along the way... not because they bring us intense joy, but because they make sense. We recognize their value. They help structure our time, express some part of who we are, or just give us something to do. But the connection often stops there… it’s like knowing something is important without actually feeling it.

For people with schizoid dynamics, this disconnect between knowing and feeling is pretty common. We’re often mentally present, intellectually aware, but emotionally distant. So even if we lose access to something we care about in theory, it doesn’t always hit us emotionally. We might notice the absence, but we don’t necessarily feel a sense of loss.

That doesn’t mean the activity was meaningless... it just means our emotional link to it was muted or filtered. A lot of us have trained ourselves not to rely on emotional highs to sustain interest. Instead, we engage with things because they make sense to us. That might mean a hobby feels important in principle, but it still doesn’t register as a deep need.

I think this approach helps some of us stay stable. Emotional detachment can act like a buffer. We avoid unnecessary stress, disappointment, or longing. But it also means we’re not always tuned into what fulfills us in the way others might be. That lack of emotional feedback can make it harder to stay engaged, or even to tell whether something still matters to us.

Some of us might occasionally break through that flatness... have brief moments of real interest or inner spark. But more often, we’re managing the gap between internal logic and emotional presence. That’s not failure. It’s just how our mind has adapted.

Personally, I’ve come to see value in doing things even if they don’t always feel emotionally “real.” The act of choosing something, investing time, building a structure around it… all of that still holds meaning, even if the emotional charge is faint. It’s a different kind of engagement... less about feelings and more about intention.

So, if you’re someone who operates this way… you’re not broken. You’re working with what your capacity allows. And sometimes that’s enough.

-Wishing that you were a ghost or could turn invisible at will so you could go about your day without being observed at all