Monday, September 29, 2008

A Broken Social Scene

I used to purposely avoid certain profiles of people.

Although I wasn't automatically programmed with the gift of common sense, God somehow bestowed upon me the ability to filter out the follies of mankind. I found myself hypnotically magnetized to the mentally/spiritually anguished:

Broken people like myself.

I, of course, had never realized this about myself in the literal sense until much later in life.

But I also found myself averting gorgeous jock types, popular rockstar types, infamous school spirited folk types, etc, etc.....

I was drawn to the broken social scene like a bee to honey. I fed on their brokenness, wanting so badly for them to cut open their vessels of insecurity unto me, as if I would someday become a saviour of their wasted youth.

I was allegic to people with self confidence. I avoided happily healthy people like the plague. Their gestures of uninhibited social awareness was just too much for my emotional/spiritual warfare.

They would approach me. Many of them, would approach me. It's not like I just never had the opportunity to be a part of whatever it is that they were a part of....

But I always found myself declining their invitations to come be a part of whatever they were a part of.

Regrets do I have, you say?

Repercussions, you ask?

Yes, of course.

But my brain was wired so differently from most. I sensed my difference from the second I stepped into my first grade classroom, 26 years ago. I lived with this evocation of abnormality for the rest of my educational progress. There were many times I chose not to give in to my insecurities, all and each of those instances in my life proving to be poor decision making on my behalf. So I chose to cower in the corners of those lowly halls that were to be my school for that year, and become the invisible entity.

I moved on and I learned some things, but never, did I learn that it was okay to be different. That doesn't say that I never chose to be different, because eventually, I did. But did it ever feel okay to be different? No. Absolutely not. Not then. Not know. Not ever.

But I've learned what feels okay to me. And this does. I've also learned that just because someone chooses not to accept me, doesn't mean that I have to choose to NOT accept them.

I'm happier this way.

I'm free from the prison that captured my joy so long ago, forcing me to eat lunch by myself everyday, commanding me not to speak out of turn or text, though I wanted to shout to all within hearing range, "Fuck you! I'm different and I love it!"

I remember there was this really gorgeous jock when I was a senior in high school.

He would approach me everyday and ask me why I always looked so sad.

Deep inside of me, I wanted to grab this young vessel of beauty, embrace his social awareness with my own awkward disadvantage, and embue within him with all the socially injusticed sorrows I had carried inside me those 18 years, and smother his tender lips with a french kiss of lust and ignorance.

I wanted to devour him in those moments.

But instead, I would look at him like he was a moron, tell him to fuck off, and after a month of this same everyday bullshit facade that was us, he eventually gave up on me.

I was really rather surprised that he even approached me at all. The fact that he continued to pursue me, (obviously), still haunts me to this day.

If this kid ever knew what his persistance did for what was my crushed self esteem then, he'd probably award himself the Nobel Peace Prize, no doubt.

I had several experiences all throughout my senior year that went very much like the one I just spoke of today....

I just couldn't envision myself enduring the agony of abandonment should one of these "proto-types" manage to crack the ignomious code that was me back then.

I instead looked for enigmatic soldiers like myself. These puzzles were much easier to solve for me than people with common sense. People with common sense, whom showed the ability to make good social choices with ease terrified the life right out of me, truth be told.

Jesus Christ.

They still do.

2 comments:

inherwritemind1 said...

Hey, thanks for visiting my place. You have a way with words.

BTW, I know so-called pretty people who feel just as you do/did: alien from the rest of the apparent *normal* world. Use the words God or whomever gave you to express those intriguing differences.

PS Your Grandma is beautiful.

Tena

Realmcovet said...

It's my pleasure to visit your "realm o' beauty".

You are quite the looker yourself!!

Thank you for your words of encouragement. I really enjoy your way with words as well. :)