I'm Not Being Rude (Really)
I'm not looking at you - no. But I'm still listening.
When you came over to talk to me that day, and I turned and walked off? It wasn't because I didn't want to talk to you. It's because I didn't realise you wanted to talk to me. In fact, I didn't really notice you standing there.
I'm not looking at you - my eyes are drifting off into the distance, looking at all the people walking past. You're not even getting a glance from me. But I'm listening. Really.
When I interrupted you just then? You thought I wasn't interested in what you were saying. But I was - it's just that my brain's a few seconds behind my actions. I didn't have time to realise I was going to interrupt you. I didn't even notice I was talking at all until I was three seconds into my sentence. (And by then, you'd already stopped talking and started glaring at me - and the damage was already done, so I figured I might as well finish what I was saying.)
I'm not looking at you - not at all. It must be annoying, watching me watching other people, as if they're way more interesting than whatever it is you're saying. They're not, though. And I am listening.
When I changed seats on the train? I know it looked like I was trying to move away from you. But that noise - the high-pitched one, the one you barely noticed - that noise was agony to me. And I had to get as far away as possible, even if it did look unfriendly.
I'm not looking at you - I know. Unfortunately, I can do one of two things: listen to you, or look at you. Not both. I decided listening to the conversation would work better than looking at you attentively while not hearing a word. (I really am listening.)
When I didn't ask how you were? It's not because I don't want to talk to you. It's just that, twenty-eight years down the track, I'm still learning the social rules you learnt back when you were three. I still have to consciously remember: "When someone asks how you are, you ask them how they are too." And I still forget, unless I'm reminding myself, over and over. It's not that I don't care - but I don't know how to talk to people. The rules aren't in my head.
I'm not looking at you - I'm looking at my feet, my drink, the weather, the carpet, anywhere and everywhere but you. And it's frustrating. I'm aware of that. But I have spent my entire life being stuck in these situations, more frustrated than the people I'm not looking at, knowing I'm rude, knowing I'm hard to talk to, and knowing there's not a single thing I can do about it - because I work differently to you (I'm still trying to figure out exactly how I work) and I can't follow your rules.
But I'm listening. I really, really am.
I love this ADDery part of myself. But sometimes, I'd love to give it all away.
When you came over to talk to me that day, and I turned and walked off? It wasn't because I didn't want to talk to you. It's because I didn't realise you wanted to talk to me. In fact, I didn't really notice you standing there.
I'm not looking at you - my eyes are drifting off into the distance, looking at all the people walking past. You're not even getting a glance from me. But I'm listening. Really.
When I interrupted you just then? You thought I wasn't interested in what you were saying. But I was - it's just that my brain's a few seconds behind my actions. I didn't have time to realise I was going to interrupt you. I didn't even notice I was talking at all until I was three seconds into my sentence. (And by then, you'd already stopped talking and started glaring at me - and the damage was already done, so I figured I might as well finish what I was saying.)
I'm not looking at you - not at all. It must be annoying, watching me watching other people, as if they're way more interesting than whatever it is you're saying. They're not, though. And I am listening.
When I changed seats on the train? I know it looked like I was trying to move away from you. But that noise - the high-pitched one, the one you barely noticed - that noise was agony to me. And I had to get as far away as possible, even if it did look unfriendly.
I'm not looking at you - I know. Unfortunately, I can do one of two things: listen to you, or look at you. Not both. I decided listening to the conversation would work better than looking at you attentively while not hearing a word. (I really am listening.)
When I didn't ask how you were? It's not because I don't want to talk to you. It's just that, twenty-eight years down the track, I'm still learning the social rules you learnt back when you were three. I still have to consciously remember: "When someone asks how you are, you ask them how they are too." And I still forget, unless I'm reminding myself, over and over. It's not that I don't care - but I don't know how to talk to people. The rules aren't in my head.
I'm not looking at you - I'm looking at my feet, my drink, the weather, the carpet, anywhere and everywhere but you. And it's frustrating. I'm aware of that. But I have spent my entire life being stuck in these situations, more frustrated than the people I'm not looking at, knowing I'm rude, knowing I'm hard to talk to, and knowing there's not a single thing I can do about it - because I work differently to you (I'm still trying to figure out exactly how I work) and I can't follow your rules.
But I'm listening. I really, really am.
I love this ADDery part of myself. But sometimes, I'd love to give it all away.