"I have something to tell you", she said. What is it?. She hesitates to tell me. I know immediately what she wanted to say, but as usual, I had to hear it, wanted to hear it. It would be my daily reminder of why I couldn't have friends. She was gathering courage, and she finally said it.
" You give off a gay vibe". I'm sorry but it's been eating at me. I just had to say it.
It's fine, I tell her. Obviously, she doesn't expect me to crash out and call her out for saying something like this to me. The unease that comes with it is palpable. I try to hide it as I tell her it's alright, that it's okay for her to say something like that to me. Why she accepts it, only God knows. But that's all I need, this girl is not getting any closer to me, as a friend, as anything. I've drawn the line. This is where it ends, I think. No more.
Thinking and looking back at that moment, I wonder how she could not tell I was uncomfortable, how I lied that it was alright. But I can't say I'm surprised, no one ever did.
It's just not fair, the entitlement people have to tell me things like that. I don't do that to anyone, I think. I can't be really sure of that
I wouldn't even remember. But one thing I know for sure is that I'm always lying to people to make them feel good about themselves, telling them what they want to hear instead of the truth, the harsh truth. I thought everyone did that, thought that's how people are, but it seems people prefer the opposite when it comes to me. I was allowed to victimise myself as much as possible because I hadn't once met someone who could relate. Then again, I wouldn't even like to have that conversation with someone. Hm, strange isn't it, how I want comfort but at the same time put in no effort to find it. How I want peace but always find trouble.
The thing is, I talk to people I don't like. I don't know why. Someone can literally stab me and after healing I'll find myself walking towards that person to talk to them normally, as if nothing ever happened. But inside I hate them, I wish they had never existed. No, that's too harsh. I wish we'd never ever met. Yes, that's an almost alright thought to think. I just couldn't help it. I don't know why. It's something I've been working on. Trying to avoid people I dislike. But then I'll find myself having a conversation with them and I'll be like, you know what? Maybe they're not so bad after all. But they are, and they bite me again and again and again. The cycle never stops. They bite, I forgive, they bite I forgive!!!!! Over and over and over!!!! I'm tired of all this very tired. Why am I always the one who bleeds, the one who gets hurt? I'm just not made to have friends I suppose, no one gets me for me.
I used to think of meeting someone who was my exact copy long long ago. Even then, I knew I would never meet someone who would understand me, who wouldn't tease me, bully me and God was i happy in those daydreams. Lying in the grass, holding my own hand, staring at the night sky. Bliss, true happiness, something I'm still looking for in the real world. I don't think I'll find it though.
Even the girls I used to play with in kindergarten teased me, they had a song for 'girly boys' but I was far too young back then to think of the toll it would take on me, far too young. And besides I just couldn't match the energy of the boys in my class. The girls were my only option. I could've stayed by myself, been solitary then. But I was just a child. I wanted to live too. To have friends. But I now realise that they were never my friends, not truly, not if they couldn't accept me for who I am without calling me names. Even my family would kick me to the curb if they had an inkling. I've been thinking about it, how I'd be kicked out of the house, I can't even call it my home, because deep down I know what a home is, and this is just not it, maybe it was, at a time, but no longer, not for me anyways.
Memories just kept flooding my head, like ants surrounding sugar, endless, chaotic.
I must've been ten or eleven, I put on a skirt and started spinning. I just liked how the skirt moved when it picked up wind, how it spun. I was just having fun, really. My dad came and shouted at me through the window when he saw me. I dropped to the floor, and I didn't move again until I was sure he'd left. I don't think what I was doing was wrong, but he did. And now I just know he would've hit me if he were closer to me. The thought of that frightens me, even now. There is just too much that has happened to me that I still haven't quite healed from fully. Some days, I just became so sad because I was in no control of my emotions, my memories seemed to operate with a mind of their own, coming and going as they pleased. I'd had enough of it. Would I ever be free? Of all these, my thoughts, my memories? Would they ever leave me alone? Or would they follow me to my grave? I do feel lighter though, some weights have been lifted off my chest by writing it. I did feel relieved a little, but there were things, darker that I still can't seem to put out just yet. It's always there though, waiting for a chance to come to stand right in front of me. I can't let it though. It'd break me. I couldn't control the tears that came now. I cried a little, thinking, I've held them back for this long, what's a few more days, months, years? I didn't know when I'd be unable to restrain them. But I'd have to be strong. I had to be, for my own sake.
I went to my room to read something, anything to cast my mind off the pain, the sadness. Anything at all. I was home alone, my family had gone out for a wedding, and I wasn't really interested in outings these days, family outings. I'd rather be anywhere by myself at home or outside, so I decided to stay at home. My choice had been very good. It was quiet, peaceful. I liked things better this way. I wish it could be like this forever. I hope I'll find a way to make myself happy, truly happy in the future.
That's all I think about these days, my life in the future. I hope it's calm, peaceful, beautiful. That's all I really want.