Fairy tales aren’t real, so don’t limit yourself
“They say I don’t have any emotions. Maybe they’re right.” I look at them carefully in the face. My head tilts with the information. I may trace circles on the surface in front of me. They are just as incapable of reading as I am. A stone fortress. An immovable structure that likes to crack people open and see how they tick with debates and challenges.
We think a lot alike. When we were at a restaurant they literally say my thoughts as I have them.
“That waitress is cute. Right?” I nod my head enthusiastically.
We exchange looks of conquest and interest. I laugh ridiculously loud and tilt my head up to the ceiling. I don’t know how or why we have so many thoughts that are expressed the same. I look at this moment that we are in now. My legs are tucked under me and I stare carefully at their face. Trying to see past their impossible to read lines in their face. I can feel and sense things with them by now. I can sense, in particular, when they are anxious and getting impatient. It’s like fingertips being run down my psyche, like that nerves on edge feeling when your allergies kick up and you feel exposed.
But, in this moment there are seams in their being. I see a little of the person behind the structure. I see a reflection of myself. Someone who is at battle with their feelings and emotions just as much as me. It might be more than me, or we may be equal.
“Everything you do is for them. You live in this area and you could be anywhere. They have to see that, don’t they?” I say.
My immovable face probably looks like the sky without clouds. I’ve been accused of more times than I can count of being incapable of being read by others. I’ve met someone who can read bits and pieces of me like broken brail. They run their fingers over the surface and watch for shimmers of life beneath the diamond design I have.
I think they give a sideways shrug. They mumble something that this person is probably right. I remember our discussion where at the restaurant my friend admits that this is the closest person they have. Of course this one person in their life can still touch them in a way they can’t quite stop. In this moment we both are like raw nerves, our armor is shed just slight enough to see underneath.
They say things that scratches my surface slightly. It’s what this person does, they basically have the ability to feel people out and debate with them for the damn hell of it. They have a sharp intelligence that is like electricity under the surface. But, in quiet moments we both seem to lose our edges ever so slightly. It’s unnerving for me to shed the layers of my protection. Especially with someone who can be my debating equal and see 10 steps ahead within a discussion like I can.
I feel like this person should have figured me out by now. My friend is easily bored, which I can understand this. They have a million different ideas and their mind is a literal factory for imagination. They move from one thing, to the next, within seconds. They have so many connections to one thing being said. It’s like a human computer with amazing precision. And, I always have this inkling they will be bored by me sometime soon.
Yet, I’m certainly not bored by them. And, I think even after our three years of knowing each other they still can’t quite understand me completely. No one can, because I never allow anyone to do that.
When we debate tonight the things they say have a bit of facts and logic behind them. So is my rebbutals, but I finally concede because we’re both talking from experience. My experiences are so much more complicated than any other human being. I have such a different perspective than most people, and I see how they are generalizing. And, I see how I’m doing the same in my counter debates. I see women as a complicated creature. I don’t get them. But, I also see them as something that is literally a force of nature, power, that they never quite ever realize.
Because they’ve been taught fairy tales are real. Find the Prince and he will save your life. But, he will never save your life. And you will always be fucked over.
I can’t say this is always true. I’ve met good men, and terrible, hell of awful men. I have met decent women, amazing women, and women who try to destroy my life from the inside out. Corroding me like the worst acid of my life. They incapacitate my inner structure so perfectly that I wasn’t even allowed to see what I was until I untangled myself from them.
The people I let near me bounce things off my shields and armor I wear. Looking for a way inside the person behind the unreadable image.