This High Wall And All His Friends
I know that it’s just storm passing, but I’ve gotten used to bad weather.
“I don’t know what, but I know I don’t like it.” I talked about how I felt, how much I’m willing to grow, how bad I am at the things adults should be good at. All of this is mere weather. I haven’t found a voice nor a language fitting enough to use I decided to use the only manner I know best: silence.
“I do care.” He utters. It felt like a cold stream in times of thirst, a glowing A in the midst of all my Cs. I had to ask myself why glimpses of goodness only makes me more uncomfortable. I nod my head in silence and void, trying to force myself to believe it because I honestly want to.
He is nothing if not sincere. Deep and soft tone, reassuring in nature and so annoyingly rational. A subtle hint of willingness that he needn’t express but I know engrained well in his voice. I figured that there must be something wrong within me that makes me profess kindness and compassion as a threat.
It’s an inner battle of self-worth, really. I guess a big part of me never actually believe that anyone would ever go to such trouble for me.
I pride myself in my ability to, for as long as I know, take care of myself emotionally. I have been able to let my thoughts flow and run every single imaginable scenarios and at the end of the week just nonchalantly look at the mirror and say, “I hope you did what you needed to do, and that you exhaust your thoughts and are satisfied.” And I sort of never forget to slip in a little “I love you and us, we’re awesome like that” under my breath just as I slowly step out of my mirror image.
But its different now, there’s another person I feel like I should include. It isn’t just me and myself now, there is someone that I am vulnerable enough to let in and now he’s here and I don’t know what to make of it.
I built a wall so high and thick that I casually believe nobody would be brave enough, stupid enough, or care much enough to be able to get inside. I even went to the length of flaunting it out to the world, so proud that no one would ever find themselves inside. On a clear day a part of me thinks that it’s just me trying to lure people closer, hoping that they would try to break in, because for the life of me I couldn’t destroy my own walls from the inside.
I told myself in confidence that my mistakes and my faulty defences are only there because I’m human. I repeat it so many times that being human to me is now just another name for being broken.
I’ve developed dry humours and self-deprecating nudges that people initially found very interesting. I used a lot of energy and time trying to keep it running as long as possible I forget where my act ends and my true self starts.
I really do stand on my two feet, though. I did pretty well in whatever I need to do to have a secure future. I plan out every single detail of my life five years ahead, and I like to think that I am reasonable enough to be able to take on anything thrown at me. I always carry my life thinking that in an eventuality, I would only have myself to lean on to, and that my walls would keep me safe. So I grew steady against all of it, a way to justify being a bit lonely sometimes.
There is, I guess, a part of me that craves his attention. It often feels like people enjoy me only until they get bored. Maybe I wanted him to like me, but I also carry a hefty baggage that he would easily be overwhelmed by.
Perhaps the reason I think of his understanding as a threat is because on some levels I know he would regret it. This story I make of myself is a lot for so many people. It took me twenty years to learn and finally able to forgive myself and wholly love myself. But it’s because I’m stuck with myself, I have no choice but to learn to do it because I know I would otherwise be dead two breakdowns ago. And here he sits on the edge of his phone, tether-less and free to roam in his own world, maybe waking up on a random Tuesday night and decides he wants nothing to do with my shit.
It’s a scary thought, you know, to imagine hearing the people you love tell you they regret how much they care. I heard it before. Outside my control it might be, but I don’t want to hear it again.
