That's forty-eight months.
one-thousand-four-hundred-sixty
Thirty-five-thousand-and-forty hours later
Etcetera, etcetera
Four years ago, I thought I had reached my end. Four years ago, I could NEVER imagine where I would be four years later. Four years ago today, something happened that would change my life forever...
And even to this very day, at 22-years-of-age and being so far removed from all of the trauma that was exacted upon me, I still cannot seem to muster up enough gall to feel adequate enough for another human being.
I know... I've spoken of my troubles with "romance" umpteen times before in the past and in earlier posts. But I feel it's so necessary, because each time I do, it is as though I interpret it from another angle. When I sit here and type away all that ails me, I release that much more of the vexation I long to eradicate completely. And I know: "there is nothing more unattractive than someone with low self-esteem and confidence" and blah, blah, blah. I've heard it all before - you can keep it.
I'm ambivalent towards the idea that I could ever make you truly understand.
This piece of my past transcends beyond merely looking in the mirror and being happy with one's extrinsic self, though I cannot deny that it has vastly impacted how I view myself physically. Metaphysically, it brings into play a whole 'nother dimension that I wager many (that have experienced the same) are not comfortable discussing or exploring. But...I must face that fear if I am ever to conquer it. It doesn't daunt me any longer to talk about it...at least...not as much as it has in recent years.
But alas, it has been four years of amplified doubt. Fear. Tears. Pain. But above all else...
...rejection...
What's a bit humorous is that this denial and refusal stems from PHYSICAL interaction (but definitely a lack thereof) with other men. I cannot recollect all the times I've been dismissed by guys because of my past. We meet, talk in person, both completely aware of each other's intentions. The attraction is mutual until certain curtains are lifted. I can't begin to construe what that feels like - to be viewed as attractive one moment, then deemed undesirable the next in a matter of a single minute.
From there, well, I just beat a dead horse.
I fall into this frenzy of self-abasing statements, thoughts, and beliefs. I laugh at myself and feel so asinine for attempting to fill all the ugly voids with meaningless sexual advances and thinking that I actually could (though I will admit, infrequently, I have been successful). I laugh at myself, because if anything, I feel so undeserving.
But those successful affairs...they're the closest things I have to "romantic" affection. Twenty-two years later and still having never been on a date. Still never having been in a relationship or having some kind of boyfriend. Still never having known what this "love" is many speak of, always on the outside looking in.
It's a cycle. Trust me, I know this. It's been a constantly revolving wheel for years now. I've made sizable dents in it, and believe one day I will break it altogether.
I'm more apt to place myself out there in regards to sex (though not nearly as much as I did as a teenager). But I almost indisputably refuse to do the same in regards to romance. You're probably scratching your head: "If that is from where your problems arise, why continue to place yourself there?"
Hell, I catch myself scratching my own head sometimes.
Simply, I would much rather be cast aside for my past than for my personality and for my heart.
It is because most are inundated by the baggage I carry, I am led to believe that the surface is something I cannot convince others to permeate. Even typing this in this very moment, I am having difficulty verbalizing what it is I truly feel and am trying to allude. Agitation follows...
Deep breaths, Eric.
If I cannot convince another to still find me sexually attractive - appealing and interesting - after certain revelations, how can I expect someone else to do the same with my mind and heart after unveiling those same secrets? How the hell could I ever convince them to look deeper, if they cannot see beyond the superficial? If they are too afraid to touch me, why would they have any reason to touch my heart?
That still may be inconceivable to you, and I'm sorry.
The tears, they stream down my face from these big brown eyes...
My stomach's churning.
Sometimes I turn so red. And feel like I'm going to explode.
And adding insult to injury, I often question my physicality (and consequently stoop just a little bit lower), being surrounded and berated by perfection. Los Angeles boys: they're so pristine. How can I compete? How could I ever stand a chance?
"And [so] I wake up alone..."
You're probably reading this thinking I have some serious issues. And while that may or may not be the case, half-way or entirely, or maybe even not at all, when it all comes crashing down, I know I'm special.
Truthfully, I do. Because I know who I am, where I'm going, and what I have to offer. And I like to think that it's a pretty decent amount. Remove all that depreciates me and my level of confidence is actually pretty healthy.
And I will say, that if ever presented with the opportunity, I could make another boy's world bigger - change the way that he views it. If ever given the chance, I could show and make another boy feel the secrets of life. I could be the best thing to ever happen to him. Though we live on the physical plane, I could take him with me on a journey that delves deeper into the unseen capacities and really open his eyes to things he may have never believed in before. I would be the BEST boyfriend ever. As I've said: I know for a fact that I'm one-of-a-kind. One-in-a-trillion.
It's a shame I can't ever seem to intrigue another to believe the same...
Perhaps it really is more advantageous, to be all alone. No one can ever hurt you. "I may be damaged goods but I'm goods nonetheless."
Happy Anniversary.
Reki*
copyright 2012
