How To Embrace Being Different
“You are definitely different from any of my friends.”
The text stares back at me and I feel an odd mixture of emotions.
One of the emotions is a certain pride in my weirdom that I’ve always had. Even when others keep screaming at me that I’m crazy, I still wear it on my sleeve. Some people have their hearts on their sleeves, I have my unusual way of being visible always.
Another emotion is fear. It’s been a couple of months since I’ve collected this new friend. I like them, so much so I just saw them and tried to see them again. That’s huge for an introvert who values their time like the most precious commodity ever. I do not like to let people into my world. Ever.
I’m scared of people knowing past what makes me unique. I know every person is inherently, intrinsically special. We all come from different walks of life, different worlds, that’s part of the reason why I love living so much. I will never understand all the knowledge that there is to be garnered. And that is a beautiful thing.
But, my life, my history, is an ugly one. Much too fucked up for people to want to know. I’ve been told by my family no one can ever relate to the hell I’ve been through. They put me through that purgatory and pretend that what I experienced really didn’t happen.
The past shadows every edge of my future.
I ask if it’s a good or bad thing that I’m so… out there. They respond with good, I kid back that it’s a matter of time before I drive them insane.
“You think you will?”
A text shines with my iPhone’s screen. Immediate answer? Yes. Appropriate answer? Hopefully not. I add that they seem to be handling me so far without any adverse reactions… yet.
My heart has already bled for someone I thought would be there for me. A person I let inside much more so than any other in a very long time. They ‘ghosted’ me, which is funny because normally I’m the one doing the vanishing act. I don’t mean to, it’s just so difficult for me to stay in contact with people. I prefer to depend on myself than any other human being.
I hate letting people close enough to my heart only to have them pierce it. It’s why I have it covered in layers and layers of walls so thick no one can see through. It’s the reasoning behind stepping away from a hug than toward it. I don’t want to feel what I’ve been missing all my life by being from an anti-touch family. How it feels to be fully embraced, warmly, with love exuding from the strength of your arms.
That hug that leaves me breathless. The touch that sets my skin on fire. It’s all too much for my cold style of existence. I prefer the abyss versus the light. You will end up being my Icarus plight.