The Why

It's happening again.... The same as my many previous schools, places I've gone, people I've lived with... And I'm stuck again in the why. I find it incredible that many times that I'm inspired to write that it's from a place of struggle. But this time it's a small-big feeling, a little child swaying on a swing so large. It shouldn't be this hard... that much I know. But for me at least, it is, and so it is.

It's the same feeling... different, left out, set apart. Sometimes I feel like I've lived a good part of my life in my own bubble. I didn't grow up around many kids, and so I never understood how people my age thought or interacted. I still don't really. It's not social anxiety... Many times I'm fine with people, it's more that the waterfall of weirdness I bring forth is probably awkward. I think some people are more absorbed into the bubble we call society. The with people... the cued in.

A part of me thinks, "Be wierd, freak people out, because you're only truly living when you're living honestly." There's nothing more painful than feeling like you have to hide or change who you are. But there's nothing more terrifying that feeling isolated and alone. I almost feel set up that these two needs would be forever at war.

The cycle that has begun to repeat again is different this time... Because this is the time that I realize it's happening again. And because it's happening again... this time, I have the opportunity to truthfully ask myself why.

Is because the food I eat is different?
Why does my voice drown out in a conversation?
Is my attempt at kindness a hindrance?
Am I annoying?
Is it because I look calm when I'm anxious?
Because I'm too chill to be upset or hurt?
Because trying to understand the strange functioning of weird people's lives is too inconvenient?

I know others have talked about me, I know they probably will in the future. A part of me thinks, "Let them talk. You can't control it anyway." Surfaces and skins and tinted shades of reality is all it is. Just perspectives, even if they're not true. People aren't bad, or mean, or ill-willed... they are misinformed. On some level, I desperately wish I knew why it was so hard to connect. I honestly try, I do.

If we don't connect, I could leave it at that...
But I want to be someone who can connect with anyone. Is the why the why am I not?

Is it even because I think like this? Deeply?
Because I feel like this? Deeply?

I'm too deep. Too serious... too thinking. But I know that. And I don't care because I like that... and I don't want to change. I love living my life on the edge of the deep end. But why is it so lonely here?

Is the why the why?

Today I'm only asking myself questions. I feel a dawn of transformation. I don't know where I'm going, but I'm beginning to trust the feet that pull me one step in front of the other.