tales from the trashcan.
i spend most of my existence tucked deep away within myself. most people have no idea what it really means to be an introvert (or, in my case, an extreme isolationist), but it can be, at times, extremely frustrating.
did you know that a hermit is also a type of cookie, boasting raisins and nuts? go ahead, look it up. it's true. but trust me, there isnt much sweetness in solitude, no matter how much i defend it, desire it, and force it upon myself at times.
i live my life like a ball of paper that is so tightly crumpled up, that even if you were to open it up and smooth it out, you still wouldnt be able to read any of the words--i've been closed off for too long--the creases are simply cut too deep, some words look too much like others, nothing really makes sense. i've told alot of people before that the only thing i can really tell them for certain is that none of my emotions ever make sense, and they descend upon and lift from me almost at random. that the deeper they looks for justification, the more likely they are to turn up empty-handed. it's a boundless conundrum of wants and needs, of fulfillment and emptiness. questions only give birth to more questions, and nothing ever really gets solved. this makes love an extremely daunting task. but i try. or i try to try, rather.
i attribute a lot of it to being an pisces, as the sign mythology goes, we're supposed to be naturally detached and emotionally aloof individuals. it's not that i don't want to feel..its just that i simply..don't. like someone who cuts themselves to feel pain, emotion only tumbles out of me in the most tumultuous or passionate of circumstances. otherwise i find myself feeling cold and apathetic, vacant and mechanical, not concerned with anything outside of the microcosm inside my head. i'm sure its more than just an astrology thing, its a psychologically inherent characteristic. when you grow up the black sheep of the family, you're going to feel a little separate.
add to that the fact that i was a very eccentric, if not sometimes obnoxious and perverted child, it was a separateness that only ran deeper when comparing myself to other girls who were numbers of things i thought i never could be. things like pretty, things like dainty. i wanted to feel wanted, but never really fit in, no matter how much i tried to mold myself into what i thought a girl/woman/person should be.
when i was younger i swore too much and asked too many questions about everything. i blurted out shards of honesty at strangers that made my parents embarrassed to take me out sometimes. i learned to bite my tongue, i learned to be 'appropriate,' stifling my own nature so as not to be ostracized from whatever unimportant social circle i was trying so desperately to fit into. somehow in between all of that, i learned to feel that any show of emotional display was a sign of weakness, so i started holding everything inside. now it's like i have to force myself to cry sometimes, just to feel human.
i have a lot of dreams that there is a secret room in my house, which seems to blatantly signify my repressed emotional nature, and feeling that there are places in me that i maybe want to let others into, but don't. one of those places is my heart. i guess i trusted too many assholes with the copy of the key and since i got the lock changed and carpets cleaned, i don't want anyone else tracking mud in there.
this doesnt, by any mean, mean that i am incapable of feeling or expressing warmth, or developing friendships, or cultivating love. i dont demand much of anything from anyone, except a variable truckload of patience. many of my closest friends, who really 'get me', are pretty understanding and i love them for putting up with my crap. it's difficult trying to make people understand (and not take it personally), that while i do enjoy their company, i prefer to spend most of my time alone. i appreciate frank in particular, probably the most patient of all, who's got a fistful of ride-all-day tickets for my emotional rollercoaster (which is more like a Pitfall, really), and no matter how sick the ride makes him sometimes, he keeps getting back on. his undiluted willingness to endure my absences has captured a huge part of me, and will forever, no matter how much i try to deny it. or him.
did you know that a hermit is also a type of cookie, boasting raisins and nuts? go ahead, look it up. it's true. but trust me, there isnt much sweetness in solitude, no matter how much i defend it, desire it, and force it upon myself at times.
i live my life like a ball of paper that is so tightly crumpled up, that even if you were to open it up and smooth it out, you still wouldnt be able to read any of the words--i've been closed off for too long--the creases are simply cut too deep, some words look too much like others, nothing really makes sense. i've told alot of people before that the only thing i can really tell them for certain is that none of my emotions ever make sense, and they descend upon and lift from me almost at random. that the deeper they looks for justification, the more likely they are to turn up empty-handed. it's a boundless conundrum of wants and needs, of fulfillment and emptiness. questions only give birth to more questions, and nothing ever really gets solved. this makes love an extremely daunting task. but i try. or i try to try, rather.
i attribute a lot of it to being an pisces, as the sign mythology goes, we're supposed to be naturally detached and emotionally aloof individuals. it's not that i don't want to feel..its just that i simply..don't. like someone who cuts themselves to feel pain, emotion only tumbles out of me in the most tumultuous or passionate of circumstances. otherwise i find myself feeling cold and apathetic, vacant and mechanical, not concerned with anything outside of the microcosm inside my head. i'm sure its more than just an astrology thing, its a psychologically inherent characteristic. when you grow up the black sheep of the family, you're going to feel a little separate.
add to that the fact that i was a very eccentric, if not sometimes obnoxious and perverted child, it was a separateness that only ran deeper when comparing myself to other girls who were numbers of things i thought i never could be. things like pretty, things like dainty. i wanted to feel wanted, but never really fit in, no matter how much i tried to mold myself into what i thought a girl/woman/person should be.
when i was younger i swore too much and asked too many questions about everything. i blurted out shards of honesty at strangers that made my parents embarrassed to take me out sometimes. i learned to bite my tongue, i learned to be 'appropriate,' stifling my own nature so as not to be ostracized from whatever unimportant social circle i was trying so desperately to fit into. somehow in between all of that, i learned to feel that any show of emotional display was a sign of weakness, so i started holding everything inside. now it's like i have to force myself to cry sometimes, just to feel human.
i have a lot of dreams that there is a secret room in my house, which seems to blatantly signify my repressed emotional nature, and feeling that there are places in me that i maybe want to let others into, but don't. one of those places is my heart. i guess i trusted too many assholes with the copy of the key and since i got the lock changed and carpets cleaned, i don't want anyone else tracking mud in there.
this doesnt, by any mean, mean that i am incapable of feeling or expressing warmth, or developing friendships, or cultivating love. i dont demand much of anything from anyone, except a variable truckload of patience. many of my closest friends, who really 'get me', are pretty understanding and i love them for putting up with my crap. it's difficult trying to make people understand (and not take it personally), that while i do enjoy their company, i prefer to spend most of my time alone. i appreciate frank in particular, probably the most patient of all, who's got a fistful of ride-all-day tickets for my emotional rollercoaster (which is more like a Pitfall, really), and no matter how sick the ride makes him sometimes, he keeps getting back on. his undiluted willingness to endure my absences has captured a huge part of me, and will forever, no matter how much i try to deny it. or him.