The things that trouble me most right now are the cult of Trump, the inward demand to get social media likes, especially from Tara Platt, Abby Trott and Sarah McKnight, because my brain interprets likes as “you’re doing things right” because of an experience with an annoying kid over 10 years ago where he insisted I do what he wanted, not what I wanted, because what he wanted got more likes, so I became driven to outshine him, people painting Christianity as homophobic and transphobic and the fear that those three ladies’ good and the good of Edeleth, Annette, Yunaka, Zelmus, Bumbleby, Rise Kujikawa, the music I enjoy and other things I like will be forced from me by peer pressure and aggressive right-wing family members who think I’m not good enough because I like it rather than reject it. I don’t want to deal with lectures, either in person or on social media, about tastes, I know I could be better, do more service and kindness, but I’d rather have things to put on than take off, places to explore and bridges to cross rather than burn.
I can’t stop these things, I know I can’t, and I have no control over them at all. But that isn’t what worries me, what worries me is not being able to express my feelings like this freely. I worry endlessly about how everyone will react to this, that they’ll think I’m crazy or divorced from reality or I’m losing it and need to be put down before I hurt someone. Because I keep thinking that about myself. I keep thinking I shouldn’t be who I am, shouldn’t have these worries, be an adult and handle anxieties without Twitter pages, like everyone else does. Just let it roll off my back in real time/don’t read those emails like Mom and Andrew do, not rely on the kindness of two strangers and the selfies and kind words of a third, establish a group, need the internet for nothing, be what I would call an adult and not feel like I’m relying on three sort of big sisters to get halfway through each day, posting photos of them and their characters and having plushies of their characters hug like some little girl having a tea party. Maybe that’s what really troubles me, that I’m not like any other 34-year-old I know or ever knew, because I’m the only one who openly knows he has too much trouble doing it all alone, emotions too fierce, most people too confusing, personally unsure what choice he should make and they all seem scary, even when it feels like the right one.
Now I really do feel at peace. Nothing may be solved, but it was nice, being honest.
No comments:
Post a Comment