Thoughts in a Scattered Sunday

Tonight I type to silence.

Over the years I have attempted to seem as normal as possible. Although I may try to outrun my oddities they still come out. They surface.

As I have gotten older I have learned--- learned to hold back my tongue, speak less. My mind tells me to not speak at all. Why? I am exceptionally venerable. People worry about me.

I used to speak and talk about outrageously uncomfortable things when I was younger, and sometimes I still find myself doing so. I figured, the more people think they know me, the safer I am. The trick was always to scare people away with my eccentric personality and over-sharing habits. I both wanted people close, but wanted them very far away.

I am getting older now, and I'm trying. I am trying to kick the old habits of pushing people away.

However, I have a confession:

What scares the hell out of me is getting close to someone.

People are sometimes difficult to read, but to each there is a certain level of honesty and truthfulness to them. Judging this correctly is key.

When I was in third grade I was the new kid in my class. I was not alone in my "new kid-ness". Now I don't usually use names but Jesse was his name. We hit it off great-- almost immediately. We were pals before the three o'clock bell rang. However, on the third day of third grade (nice repetitiveness eh?) we got into a fight. I believe I hit him. The first and only time I was ever in a fight at school. From that moment on, Jesse and I were sworn enemies. Now you may be wondering what my point is in sharing a little background here, and this is it: anything Jesse wanted to know I told. Here was my arch-enemy, a kid I was not supposed to like. It is difficult though to describe how I felt around him though. Jesse was everything shy of magnetic. I couldn't lie to him, I couldn't hide from him (he'd be in every single one of my classes before I changed school districts). This fact about Jesse scared me. 

If only Jesse had asked the right questions he'd destroy me. He was not good. I could sense it.

With all my experience of being the loser, of being lied to, of being abandoned-- I have come to be decent at reading people. Or so I think. If I can't there are always small tests.

Deep down I am scared. I'm scared that those who come to know me fully and completely will be either appalled or use me.

But deep down, what I long for and desire is to be known and loved in spite of that.

Tonight I am successful in choking my doubts in myself. But how much longer will I be able to motivate myself with no purpose? How long will I be able to "hope" that ahead of me are opportunities to make a difference?

If you can't tell my mind is all a flurry now. There is so much to think about.
1. I am not my parents.
2. I will one day be a good parent.
3. E--- what will be?
4. Motivation--where will I find it?
5. My marrying sister
6. Homework--thou art a thorn in my side
7. God.
8. Me.

sleep time. zzzZzzz