Made a wrong turn once or twice
Dug my way out, blood and fire
Bad decisions, that’s alright
Welcome to my silly life
Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood
Miss No-Way-It’s-All-Good
It didn’t slow me down
Mistaken, always second guessing
Underestimated, look, I’m still around
Pretty pretty please, don’t you ever ever feel
Like you’re less than fucking perfect
Pretty pretty please, if you ever ever feel
Like you’re nothing. You’re fucking perfect to me
You’re so mean, when you talk about yourself
You were wrong, change the voices in your head
Make them like you instead
~Pink
Things have been pretty damn okay. My sister, and my little niece, were here for about 10 days. We had a blast! It was hot, so we swam in the pool a couple times. It was also a lot of fun, just sitting in my kitchen, and having someone to chat with. Someone who knows and understands me. Somebody I don’t need to explain myself to, because she already knows my heart.
I recognize I’m sort of an “acquired taste”. Pretty much every friend I’ve ever made, at some point got the impression that I was cold, or just a bitch. I’m not defending it, or saying that it’s wrong, but the truth is, it takes a long time to peel back all my “layers”. It’s not that I think I’m particularly complicated. I’m not shy, either. I don’t intend to be distant, or closed off. I really can’t help it. Only with enough time invested, will anyone begin to gather up enough of the pieces to get a decent picture of who I am. Maybe more importantly, why. For as long as I’ve been aware, that’s simply the way I was. If anything, life’s increased the amount of time it takes for someone to truly know me. It’s hard for me to trust others, or to let them in. Every time I’ve been let down, lied to, betrayed, and deeply wounded, has made that even more difficult. As badly as I do crave the comfort of friendships, I can’t let my guard down. It’s not something one could force, or fake. I definitely don’t want to be disingenuous.
Getting to know me happens in small doses, given the benefit of patience and understanding. I will expose my hopes and dreams, my worries and fears, my hurt and heartbreaks, slowly. Eventually, if you’re still willing to hang onto those drips and drops, without spilling them, to shame, blame, and discard me, you’ll find I’m capable of pouring myself out. I’ll protect your secrets. I’ll listen and help in any way I can, from day one. I just won’t allow my own needs to be met, unless and until I feel safe. I’d much rather suffer in silence, than do so in front of an audience, who might mock my pain. I will not pass out knives, and then expose my back, making myself a helpless victim! Fuck that.
I’m not insensitive. I’m not uncaring. I’ve got so much real, pure love. I want to share something meaningful. I want nothing more than to make a difference, to leave something positive for others. That’s the contradiction, the part that’s easy to miss. It’s not that I think you’re not worth it. I’m afraid I won’t be worthy.
I’ve got no interest in replacing the empty spaces, that someone else used to occupy. It isn’t that easy, anyhow. I’ve accepted that there are doors that must remain closed, but I also need to take a chance on opening new ones, if I want to have company. I wish that were easier for me to do, though.
♥️
