15/12/2X22
It was one of those days where I'm trapped in my own head. It was one of those weeks where free time comes as a burden to be filled rather than a pleasure to be had. One of those months where I depend on the world to entertain me rather than myself. Another one of those years I've lived. Two days ago at a lull in conversation I stared too long and too deeply into a woman's face and she into mine, I feel guilty now. The silence in between songs sounds louder than the very familiar tunes. There are many kinds of love in this world and I count anyone able to experience any of them lucky. There is no quicker way to self hatred than to lay for an hour watching YouTube Shorts you can't relate to. Recently I've been asked more frequently about my romantic life or I've just began to feel self-conscious enough about it I've started to notice a pattern. People always mean well. People want to know me. Why do I always assume they want to judge me, why am I so unjustly quick to judge them.
These past six months I'm the furthest I've ever been from myself yet my soul continues to lug the prison of my flesh around with it everywhere it goes. This feeling reminds me of being 9 years old walking from the year 4 & 5 classrooms up the hallway to the year 2 & 3 classrooms, someone had recently told me that if you push against someones parallel palms with your own the fake feeling of a ball will appear betwixt your hands. This was another proof against the supremacy of reality. A great wish I had at this time and perhaps one I'd still have if i hadn't become so used to the reality of it was to be some kind of incorporeal personality. To be without a body. My belief was this was the answer to all the bad feeling. When I was a child i would silently cry in my mind asking God to show himself and give me an answer to the question I couldn't articulate there was nothing but silence.
When I hit puberty I put on a lot of weight that never left me. Throughout my teenage years this made me feel unlovable and so the thought of women did not cross my mind even if they actually did like me. A happy ending would've been to have been proved wrong when I finally did fall in love with someone. It was not a happy ending. Every ill conceived core tenant of my self hatred fell away in the face of love. In someone else I had found the purpose of reality. However, my hated body (among other tings) destroyed my hopes. The welling tears and feeling at the back of my throat when I began to type the opening line to this paragraph reminds me this teenage girl feeling of fatness is still an all encompassing part of me. For a decade I've rounded my shoulders to hide my chest and protruded my head forward in an attempt to destroy and semblance of a second chin. All my life people have told me I'm not that big, or that I carry it well. I don't want to be any kind of big or carry anything well. I heard once that anorexics hallucinate themselves as morbidly obese in a mirror when in actuality they are emaciated skeletons. I've long hoped this to be the case for myself.
I don't compliment people. I think about it, I think a lot of things about other people but I don't compliment people enough. I worry others will wonder of my intent the way I do when I am complimented. In this life I have learned you can be oh so smart or oh so pleasant, and it is truly better to be pleasant. Although, I find myself not brave enough to be pleasant. The connections between peoples hearts is all we have. My childhood wishes prove this me, as I understood it at the time I wanted to do away with anything that wasn't soul of ourselves. It wasn't necessary to me. I so deeply wanted to love and be loved for the contents of my soul and I remain the same.
Recently I went looking for someone from an old chat for a possibly unfinishable project of an extremely limited audience, and came across a message chain from someone I would have said was a good friend at the age of 10. She was asking about my widely publicised against my will ankle breakage some 4 years after I had moved schools away from her. Her messages were filled with laughter and Xs but most importantly genuine interest and concern. I could only ordain to give her one word answers until eventually I just stopped replying. She sent me two subsequent greetings garnished with 13 year old girl niceties that I did not see fit to reply to. I've done this to multiple people, I did this to the only woman I've ever loved.
I haven't got a date as to when I decided I would estrange myself from my father's side of my extended family but I have been for some years now. I'll be told they miss me, my sister relaying the harrowing message from my grandfather "I'll be dying soon. I just want to know what I did wrong." My aunt tried to get the address for my current workplace so that the family could surprise me. I don't feel guilty enough about this. I know the reason I hide myself from them is a feeling of inadequacy that I cannot give them what they want. I don't know where I got this idea of social-transactionalism from.
I want to apologise to everyone I've abandoned. Every time I feel lonely I feel extreme guilt for the people I've actively pushed away. Though I'm still not brave enough to say it to your face and I want you to continue to leave me alone,
I am sorry.