There is something exhausting about coming to terms with some aspects of my life. Things that I knew at the time would take a moment of my time to deal with and I simply said that there was no time to deal with. In some aspects, I made the right choices or at least they seem that way since I'm not too sure.
Overall it feels like waking up from a long sleep realizing that you've lost sensation to an arm or leg. It's the initial numbness that would scare most people but I honestly thrived for. It was in many ways my survival mechanism and it worked well for me. As most of you know that kind of numbness is from the lack of blood to the area and can be extremely harmful if prolonged. And most of you can understand that once you lost sensation and use to the area the first sensation you feel is not relief, but sharp pains. The kind that feel like knives tearing into you as you reach out for the area in question and do what ever possible to end that pain, be it hitting, rubbing the area or even cursing at it. That pain has to be endured to get that part of you working once more and it even frightens you at the fact that you could have just lost that part of you.
It's kind of like that. I'm well past the fear point and I'm aching in a way that I would not mind going back to numbness if I can return to functional. I'm more useful as functional, or at least that is what I'm told that I am saying to myself. When thing crash down, I'm the first to pick them back up again since I more than know that no one is going to help you and you have a choice to pick them up or just walk away. While others morn and wrap themselves in sorrow I'm more inclined to dwell in that calculated coldness that has often time have been misconstrued as being cruel. Or maybe I am/was/still going to be cruel. I'm not one to hold you and rock you slowly while you cry your eyes out. It's a position that haunts me as helplessness and I'm not one to be helpless even if the only actions I can take is symbolic at best. Grandmother is at her death bed becomes keeping my promise to her to finish school and a side project to grow my hair whenever I can to donate to locks of love. I still see this hair as not my own simply because it's a way of .....weaponizing me against what hits me from their safe or intangible placement.
I'm more inclined in shoving someone through a wall or sitting down and putting the fear of a deity of some sort into someone who dare harms another person. I know where that comes from and I can even say it's not my own paranoia rather inherited, but life down not have a sense of fairness and we pick up fears that are prevalent in the most oddest or confusing way. There is a perverse sort of vengeance when you can cut off a part of yourself to keep yourself moving. That anger/hatred/outrage/insult/pain feeds you and it nourishes you to acts of vengeance that others can not complete. I guess that is what haunts me now, not that I do not feel that my actions were unneeded or even not dictating the moment, but there is a lasting sacrifice that just makes every step you take based in fear. It makes those who you care see you as something monstrous.
And it never helps when they use that to hurt you. Almost as some may use as a shock collar to make sure the beast does not rise against it's masters.
Yea, well, fuck that.
I think that's what I'm trying to break. I know that should want the ability to care for someone without feeling awkward or even the ability to smile back without having my face hurt or even turning away as if I do not recognize basic human interactions, but my biggest goal is to reclaim that part of me that was given up to become this force of swift action and cold calculation. I always called it my "innocence". That frame of mind that some can look at clowns and laugh and see children play with no thoughts of what can and what has happened. I'm haunted by acts of extreme cruelty and abuse that were spawned by those who are dead. Actions that they committed that continue to evolve into cruelty and malice. Acts that dictated my life in many ways as the concept of insanity rules Lovecraft or the two faced sinister life of small town people in any King novel. It's my Tower and Rose. It's the force of Ka that pulls the most random items and connect them to me in a webbed map of cruelty and malice.........malice is the right word here. It's the monkeys beating the newcomer for attempting to reach for a banana that for some reason they do not understand why they do so only to know that a horrible moment happened so long ago, but can not describe as what it was.
Ah.....emotional superstition. Got to love humanity sometimes.
And so, I've live at a distance that is often times noticeable. I can't even call it a sacrifice when it has helped me along this far. That social numbness that can give me a few seconds ahead to move in when hell happens. It's more than handy. I can say that I actually saved lives like this and made moment that would normally scar others not happen. And yet, I can not help to feel that I am simply a visitor on your interesting planet. Something other yet in some sad way belonging. I feel that I've lived my life in the Uncanny Valley where you can see the imitation of life, but know there is a disturbing aspect that give you your Blink moment and makes you question. I am not human in some ways and I more than understand why. And I will go to the extent to say that, no, I don't think I want to be human. I've seen what you all do to each other and I have dealt with that hell for so long. It's easier cleaning up a stain on the carpet instead of associating it with blood. It just too functional to step aside yourself and get it clean instead of being with the huddled masses weeping in the corner.
Shit needs to get down.
I know, I'm regressing. I know. I'm trying, damn it. I can't turn on 'people' and just be.
So what I'm saying is the have some patience with me as I try, and many times do not understand why I am doing this, to re-associate myself with you.....people. I am odd. I know that. I'm trying and sometimes I fail horribly. Thankfully humor is there to masquerade frustration or is my frustration just humorous? Either way, I got that working for me. For what else is there to do than to wear Motley.....ok ok.....I'm getting there!
Please have patience with me, since I have none for myself and would rather just buy real estate in the Uncanny Valley than to pitch a tent. I'm trying to be people again and I can't even tell if I made that point or if I digressed enough to not make it. I'm one who is more comfortable shoving people away than to try and act like you. Just know that while I'm silent at times I'm trying to figure out how to act or trying to figure out what to say that will make me human.
This is stupid. It feels stupid, but I'm told I should say this anyways.
Whatever.
I don't care.
Ok, maybe a little.
Whatever.
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