Ghost
I am just an ordinary girl. There is nothing especially exceptional about me. I don't know why I crave to feel like I am more, I am better, that I am special; why I crave to be extraordinary. I don't understand the pieces of myself and how they fit together. Why does it hurt inside when I get what I want? I have all these questions that aren't really questions. Feelings and shadows of thoughts that churn me up inside and then dissolve before I can sift one thing out from another.
For this past week all I wanted was to be alone, for Ryan to leave, for me to have a place of solitude and quiet. The first day of my silence I relished. I quietly read, curled in my chair that I haven't sat in for months now. The second day of silence I craved company, someone with whom I could share the heavy hurt that was caused when I was left behind.
Is that what has always frightened me? Not being alone, but having been left? Of not being extraordinary enough, special enough, beautiful enough, charming enough, perfect enough to have someone want to bring me along? I know I am not perfect, I know that I am simply who I am; but that does not change the fact that it still hurts when I get left behind. I am always being left behind.
I married a man who doesn't even want me, who doesn't even feel anything when he leaves me behind. I am simply there or simply not there - it makes no difference. So this is what it must feel like to be a ghost. To be half in one world and half in another. To live day in and day out with the feeling of transparency - to have people see right through you, only to pause, look back and still see nothing. Not invisible - people do see me - just they only see what they want to see. When they look back it is because they have a fleeting feeling like they are forgetting something or missing something important, but not important enough to investigate.
All my life I grew up being alone. My friends were my books because no one else wanted to be. My books were always there to give me adventure, excitement, and a place where I could lose myself to the person I knew was deep inside. My books always whispered things in my ear, telling me who I was and not to let anyone tell me otherwise. They allowed me to recognize my ability to intrinsically know my wrong from my right. They gave me something that no one else would... Friendship.
I can count the number of friends that I've had and have on one hand, and even still I cannot fully let go with any of them. I am so worried that if they ever found out who I really was they wouldn't love me any more. It hurts so much... It's like I have this hole in my heart that should be filled with other people, but no one wants to be there for me. Most of the people I know have a gift for making friends - where ever they go people love them and want to be their friend. Not me. I've always wondered what those people see in me - that they chose to let me in even though so many fight for their attention. But still... it hurts that I can't do that, that the people I want to be friends with don't even see me, don't want to see me, and again I am left behind.
For this past week all I wanted was to be alone, for Ryan to leave, for me to have a place of solitude and quiet. The first day of my silence I relished. I quietly read, curled in my chair that I haven't sat in for months now. The second day of silence I craved company, someone with whom I could share the heavy hurt that was caused when I was left behind.
Is that what has always frightened me? Not being alone, but having been left? Of not being extraordinary enough, special enough, beautiful enough, charming enough, perfect enough to have someone want to bring me along? I know I am not perfect, I know that I am simply who I am; but that does not change the fact that it still hurts when I get left behind. I am always being left behind.
I married a man who doesn't even want me, who doesn't even feel anything when he leaves me behind. I am simply there or simply not there - it makes no difference. So this is what it must feel like to be a ghost. To be half in one world and half in another. To live day in and day out with the feeling of transparency - to have people see right through you, only to pause, look back and still see nothing. Not invisible - people do see me - just they only see what they want to see. When they look back it is because they have a fleeting feeling like they are forgetting something or missing something important, but not important enough to investigate.
All my life I grew up being alone. My friends were my books because no one else wanted to be. My books were always there to give me adventure, excitement, and a place where I could lose myself to the person I knew was deep inside. My books always whispered things in my ear, telling me who I was and not to let anyone tell me otherwise. They allowed me to recognize my ability to intrinsically know my wrong from my right. They gave me something that no one else would... Friendship.
I can count the number of friends that I've had and have on one hand, and even still I cannot fully let go with any of them. I am so worried that if they ever found out who I really was they wouldn't love me any more. It hurts so much... It's like I have this hole in my heart that should be filled with other people, but no one wants to be there for me. Most of the people I know have a gift for making friends - where ever they go people love them and want to be their friend. Not me. I've always wondered what those people see in me - that they chose to let me in even though so many fight for their attention. But still... it hurts that I can't do that, that the people I want to be friends with don't even see me, don't want to see me, and again I am left behind.
posted by Rebecca at 4:20 AM
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