This is from the back of a notebook. I was jotting down thoughts while in another city, far from home.
“All the way back I remember…party in the 6th grade. Paige walking out to the pool. I sang Patsy Cline by the diving board. It was my isolation from the fun inside. But I felt melancholic. At such a young age. But this is what I do. I isolate myself. I always have in some way.
I vibrantly jump into a new school, job, situation, etc. and bounce to each person with introductions and smiles. I know them all before they know each other. Before they decide which clique to join. Which people to shun.
The first weeks (sometimes months) they are glad for my presence. I’m there with a smile and a kind word. But they eventually conform, if that’s the proper word for it. And once hierarchy establishes their place, mine is forgotten. I’m released back into whatever pool or stream to which fish like me belong.
I endure the rejection, sadness, anger, frustration, and confusion of it over and over – with nearly everyone I meet. Is it me? I always wonder. I know it must be, for better or worse. But I’m a good person. I withdraw further into myself to avoid further discomfort. My personal disaster plan. And despite the queries to others and within myself…regardless of professional training – no one can tell me truly what I must do to connect. They don’t care about me. They don’t care. Shouldn’t we?”
