I'm not just seeking connection. I'm seeking the guarantee of a connection.
It's unfair.
It's unfair that my genuineness, my thirst of truth, was crunched into a fear of being deceived, of being lied to, so sharp, that now I do not even accept a connection unless it comes with some guarantee of it being true. And that I don't even know that I do it.
It's unfair because I did nothing towards it. It was punched and lied and screwed into my offered love and laughter over and over and over again by the people I felt closest to me, the only "friends" and family that were close to me. The genuine, eager boy, seen only as ingenuous and naive, was the default target for everyone's pranks, lies, and experiments. "Let's see just how much we can make him believe it". And the moment the lie was opened up brought with it derisive laughter, people running away from me, or the belittling or punishing from some parent or teacher for falling into a prank I never understood. That I didn't want to understand.
The words from my peers were dangerous. Always. No one could be trusted - only authority itself because it held the power that punished and rewarded, and not even trusted to hold truth. Whatever was said I never again believed at first glance. Only reinforcing evidence, some supporting proof, would render a fact believable. A single statement lost its worth. And I became mistrusting at the core.
And now at conversations, I do not truly listen to people, because I do not fully believe what they say. I do not believe that someone's attention on what I say is true. I do not believe that a woman's furtive look in my direction truly seeks my interest. I do not believe a group of people around me, all of us hugging and sharing the most intimate words we can gather, truly include me. I do not believe my closest friends to appreciate me for anything other than what I can materially offer. I am a novelty item, like I've always known. Nothing else. What else could I be? I know nothing else.
And looking back, I realize how my social shortcomings all scramble around this core mistrust. I am unwilling to take anything unless it is offered with "proof", and I am unwilling to give anything unless it is requested with "proof". In my mind. This proof can be a lingering look, an assurance of the eyes that says "yes, I really mean it". But the world of edges and true growth does not live on these proofs. It skirts the boundaries between the known and the unknown, where facts are scant and only inner impulses guide us, unburdened by mistrust and proofs. And as I now see it, in that world live the dance of attraction, sexuality, true human bonding, and love.
And in this world I feel graceless. Not a part of.
And I wish to partake in this world.
It's unfair.
It's unfair that my genuineness, my thirst of truth, was crunched into a fear of being deceived, of being lied to, so sharp, that now I do not even accept a connection unless it comes with some guarantee of it being true. And that I don't even know that I do it.
It's unfair because I did nothing towards it. It was punched and lied and screwed into my offered love and laughter over and over and over again by the people I felt closest to me, the only "friends" and family that were close to me. The genuine, eager boy, seen only as ingenuous and naive, was the default target for everyone's pranks, lies, and experiments. "Let's see just how much we can make him believe it". And the moment the lie was opened up brought with it derisive laughter, people running away from me, or the belittling or punishing from some parent or teacher for falling into a prank I never understood. That I didn't want to understand.
The words from my peers were dangerous. Always. No one could be trusted - only authority itself because it held the power that punished and rewarded, and not even trusted to hold truth. Whatever was said I never again believed at first glance. Only reinforcing evidence, some supporting proof, would render a fact believable. A single statement lost its worth. And I became mistrusting at the core.
And now at conversations, I do not truly listen to people, because I do not fully believe what they say. I do not believe that someone's attention on what I say is true. I do not believe that a woman's furtive look in my direction truly seeks my interest. I do not believe a group of people around me, all of us hugging and sharing the most intimate words we can gather, truly include me. I do not believe my closest friends to appreciate me for anything other than what I can materially offer. I am a novelty item, like I've always known. Nothing else. What else could I be? I know nothing else.
And looking back, I realize how my social shortcomings all scramble around this core mistrust. I am unwilling to take anything unless it is offered with "proof", and I am unwilling to give anything unless it is requested with "proof". In my mind. This proof can be a lingering look, an assurance of the eyes that says "yes, I really mean it". But the world of edges and true growth does not live on these proofs. It skirts the boundaries between the known and the unknown, where facts are scant and only inner impulses guide us, unburdened by mistrust and proofs. And as I now see it, in that world live the dance of attraction, sexuality, true human bonding, and love.
And in this world I feel graceless. Not a part of.
And I wish to partake in this world.
It hurts knowing that my earnest outreaches into the world, seeking out the mythical "connection", are felt as attacks, as an intensity "too much to handle".
"It feels like you are raping me with your eyes."
I see that feeling in others. And now that I know what it's like, it saddens my hindsight.
I hope the tears wash away the illusions that still veil my heart.
I hope the tears wash away the illusions that still veil my heart.
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