Sex is something with an awful
reputation. Life has the reputation as being a bitch.. pretty awful
too.
Sex hurts, humiliates, confuses,
degrades, emasculates, terrifies, abuses, incriminates, takes away
innocence, identity, individuality, confidence, security,
self-respect, hope, peace, freedom, love.
Life hurts, humiliates, confuses,
degrades, emasculates, terrifies, abuses, incriminates, takes away
innocence, identity, individuality, confidence, security,
self-respect, hope, peace, freedom, love.
Difference is, people can hate life and
love sex. Sex guarantees some amount of relational bonding; life does
not. A life can go from beginning to end without any relational
connection. Sex is relational connection by physical means.
Maybe it's an awful analogy, but it
resonates with how I feel in every social situation, or anytime I try
to do something fun. I walk away going, “Was that it?” feeling
totally empty, unsatisfied, unfulfilled. Maybe things that fill
normal people don't fill me. For them, there's a relational need to
be met, and it's met by being with people. For me, I don't
consciously have that need, and I've never known it. My engine
stopped running on fuel a long time ago, and now it runs on air. It
learned how to move around like a car, but if you pop the hood,
nothing is on, nothing is running. Is it still a car if it doesn't
have a working engine?
My brain rewired itself into receiving
fulfillment from strong feelings, emotional highs, physical highs. A
man showing interested in me, a drink or smoke, a friend telling me
how I'm the most awesome person ever, or the construction of radical,
abstract, creative thoughts or theories (like this one): these are
the only things that make me feel alive, fulfilled. Without them, i'm
running a race without a finish line. This is why I feel that I have
to go crazy deep with people – crazy deep and radically real,
because my relational radar only goes off when strong feelings are
expressed. I receive so much fulfillment and life in arguments
because I feel connected to the person or people with whom I'm
arguing. They walk away thinking I hate them and I walk away
initially exuberant, then learning how they feel, I feel so sad, to
put it plainly. I feel sad that my heart was alive and happy in the
conversation while theirs was growing colder and more distant with
every word.
I'm learning about normal relationships
from Melanie. She doesn't go deep or share her real, unveiled
feelings, but she does consider me a friend and I think she cares
about me, though I don't feel it. I watch our relationship, I study
it to understand how people do it. They all think I'm on top, I'm
confident, I'm the leader... but I'm studying their every move,
trying to discover what friendship is. Maybe I don't want them to
know that I'm the car whose engine is off, my feet sticking through
the floor board propelling my car forward with all my strength,
trying to stay at the same pace as them. If I thought it would help,
maybe I'd let them in, but my feelings tell me that nothing will help.
And it's too tender a subject to risk being laughed at or
misunderstood. I'm very sensitive. I need to accept that. I need to
stop acting so tough... but being so sensitive, it feels impossible
not to have a tough outside. People are so harsh and I'm so tender. I
don't know if I want to be, but I am.
I wonder if all their engines work.
