Aching to share


How obvious it must seem, though it wasn’t obvious to me for years and so I must express it.
Our greatest tragedy is indeed that we feel different about each other and about stuff life, politics, life and death, friendship, etc.).
When I was younger (and I mean that as a very long time span, somewhere between 3 years of age and 40), I used to think all that mattered was to explain things enough, find the right words, and you could share a feeling with someone. Nasties would say you could convince them of it, but that is nasty people. I would say cause harmony through agreement.
As long as my incredibly stern and exacting conscience decided that a thought I had could only lead to goodness, everything in my system would try and express that thought to as many people as I could.
An increasing dissatisfaction and sense of powerlessness led me to reduce the amount of people I tried to convert (I guess is the right word), and occasionally to sink so low in my discouragement that I felt that common feeling so many people share: “Am I an alien?””I don’t belong here””Somewhere (else) there must be people who share my ideas and thoughts and feelings.”
I guess what I would now tell my younger self is actually, that place does not exist. You belong exactly where you are for as long as you’re there. No, you are not an alien. In fact, everyone feels like you.
I wish I had heard all this when I was younger, it would have saved me enormous amounts of trouble and pain. I am not saying I would have accepted it from day one, but I would have gone about it differently.
I would have tried to accept that we do indeed function differently, we are indeed all going to see everything differently. In some cases you might find someone who feels exactly the same as you do about, say, cooking. Or hedgehogs. But never are you ever going to find a person or a group of people that agree with you on everything.
Isn’t that obvious? You might think. Well, no, to me it wasn’t.
I know very well that the appeal I always had for men was that until recently you could never fail to see that part of me that was an incredibly needy (emotionally) child. I appealed to men’s instinct to protect but also to ravish. It’s ok, I have accepted that now and I am now learning to live as this new me, who is growing such indicators of age that it is very difficult to see me like that anymore. So what is left?
My ideas are no longer the cute ramblings of an insecure child. They are my ideas. I am no longer a strange creature that is happily teased (anything to cause laughter, even if it’s at my expense). My ideas and thoughts are the result of sooo many years and experiences in such incredibly diverse environments and circumstances, both mentally and physically, and I am starting to resent being teased for them.
And because I am no longer cute and no longer amusing or at least not always available to amuse, the harsh truth is that asides from very few people, or a in very few situations, nobody actually cares.
It is not my job, it’s not part of my persona, it is not what I am sought for. Me yes, my ideas, not so much.
So where does that leave me?
Where I started, long ago, except I should have known then and it would have saved me so much heartache and perhaps I would have been able to do more.
I am left writing.
Blogging while I wait to have the time to edit my novel, and then in my novel, and perhaps more to follow.
It is too late to become a journalist, or anyone whose opinion is respected. Too late to express it with the humour and coolness of so many people I know, who somehow are more authoritative and more interesting in whatever they say merely because of the way the say it.
I am not interested in the countless people who add you just so you go check out their blog and follow it. I won’t, usually, not because I am not interested in others, but because just writing this takes so much time away from everything else, that I will only follow you if I find you genuinely interesting to me (not in absolute), and if I have the time there and then (which rarely happens) to check out your blog.

As usual, this is for me, and for anyone who might share this or that thought and feels less alone for it. That would already be amazing.


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