i often laughingly say to friends that the reason i do not get out more is that i cannot take the meanness that exists in the world.
and yet, i constantly encounter it everywhere i go online as well. but the boundaries of choice ‘here’ mean i can regulate things in a way that is often impossible outside my apartment door.
of late, there have been several others within a virtual community who are, it seems, delighted to remind that i’m not perfect.
as if i ever, ever said i was. the very idea is laughable.
somehow, the act of practice and attempting to be kind, speak gently, and deal softly with others provokes this seemingly gleeful focus on any moment in which i do not manage it.
almost as if somehow, in odd ways, that the moments i seem to manage it are held as some weapon that may be swung upon me in any moment in which i do not manage it.
it often feels like there are times when others like nothing better than to see you stumble. they seem to celebrate it. snide comments along the lines of ‘not so perfect now, are you?’ or ‘gee, guess your actions didn’t match your words that time, did they?’
as if, by admitting to striving, somehow i am obligated to be super-human or supposed to be above error.
guess what? regardless what i aspire toward, i am still what i am. what we all are. human.
if i can accord that much to others, why must it always be that i cannot be accorded it?
part of me, the human part, naturally, sneers and points out that in that gleeful laughter at my faltering, much more than my flaws are being revealed. but as it is a known thing, what point? is that not just the point? must people forever be so petty? why?
i have just about determined that my days ‘on the internet’ are over, but for this blog and perhaps splice. it’s ironic, really… being here brought very helpful things and many, many, lessons over the years… but for all i struggle to escape this cocoon of isolation, i forever seem to have events and circumstances about-face me and send me right back to it.
perhaps i just do not belong anywhere after all. perhaps i was right to feel i knew it so all along. there is very little these days that in any way is other than hurtful or harsh whenever i make the attempt to do more than sit by the sidelines and watch. i begin to understand why people lurk in these places.
maybe it’s just weird week rumbling in my veins, but in this moment, i am very tired indeed of it all. beyond tired, really. hurt once more, i sit here and contemplate full withdrawal. at least when i’m alone, the stones cannot reach me.
i miss feeling like i could belong. the ancient wound throbs as i type that. there are only four people in the world who know enough of it all to know what that means, and none of them care.
i miss that, too.