Saturday, May 5, 2018

It’s Not Easy Being Me


I am, by no means, complaining about my life. Although I am not exactly where I would like to be, I think my life is beautiful right now, but that’s not what I came here to say.

What I came here to say is that there is really no one I can mentally count on; look to; receive support from; answers; seeds of knowledge, etc., the way I used to be able to count on.

Or the way that I deserve, truth be told because I am that person for others:

Now let me say for the record, the very small circle that I have, they love me and I love them right back. Deeply. Truly. Eternally.

The issue is not the love or respect from friends or family, the issue is I lived a completely different life than almost everyone that I know and the unfortunate part of that is that they can’t help me. They don’t know how...

And that’s painful.

And that’s hurtful.

And that’s frustrating.

And it reminds me that, I am, in fact, on my own.

I don’t expect anyone to be able to solve any issue that I have going on, that’s not the reason for the frustration, I prefer to solve my own issues. The reason for the frustration is that there is no one on this planet that gets me. Sometimes, all I need is to talk to someone trustworthy who doesn’t judge me because I don’t judge others. Sometimes, I just want to let it out, in a safe space. 

And what I let out are particles of life that people have never had the pleasure or the pain to deal with in their own experiences so it is completely unfamiliar to them. It is foreign. 

I am foreign.

To them.

They don’t get me.

I am not like the others.

I have never been like the others, anyone who knows me is aware of the difference between me and anyone else they’ve ever met. This isn’t my being boastful, because I have some really odd things about my person, and I own every inch of that oddity. I am #Weird and that’s ok.

I do things differently.

I think of things differently. 

I live my life differently. 

I love thoroughly, differently.

But today...today I hurt. 

Differently.

Because there is no one and I have lost the wherewithal to seek reinforcements. Ever again.

And.

So. 

I.

Write.

                  Here.

And somehow, just like that, by writing it out, the fallen pieces liquified at my feet, have begun to solidify and the foundation is becoming more solid.

I am more solid.

And I don’t need you chipping away at those pieces to build a different me. 

And I see now that I never did.

And.

So.

I.

Thank.

You.

For.

Your.

Lack.






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A Wolf in Wolves Clothing

iAm We are      but humans for the world to see There’s millions of others But this world, in this moment Is between only you and little ole...