I realize, the people who demanded to understand me but when I picked myself apart they never ceased their cynicism – they never wanted to know me, they wanted to control me. They felt threatened by the unknown encapsulated in my idiosyncrasies and peculiar way of being that wasn’t like anything they had ever encountered – and conquered. I see now that they wanted to disarm me as if I was a bomb. I understand now, in hindsight, why they grew increasingly frustrated and distrustful of me the more I revealed of myself. Goodness. And here I’ve spent years steeped in my internalizations that I’m incredibly and exceedingly confusing and my enigma is frustrating. I really did feel guilty all these years. I kept to my shallows for fear of drowning people, all the while being bewildered by what was so confounding about me. I never hide anything, I’m absolutely consistent all the way through on a cellular level, and I have no interpersonal problems.
Sigh. Double and triple sigh. I’m done explaining anything. If you get me you get me, if you don’t, hey can’t catch em all.