Wr1tt3n0ne

Bunches and bunches
2017-12-18 01:52:38 (UTC)

Oh, How I Love the Fit!

My childhood was gray. There was dirt on every window pane of my childhood as well as dead bugs on every sill. I wish I could say that last line was metaphorical, um yeah it is literal as well. I spent my young life trying to fashion something from nothing. A family from dysfunction and addiction. A loving mother from a distant father, so on and so forth ad nauseum. And yet, I was surrounded by the gray that was my family, my dreams stood out in technicolor, wild shades of teal and fuchsia, orange and red. And my gray family took that from me as well. I was all Harry Potter, no Hogsworts.


I try to play down the depression it left me in. I try to say to myself, as my family did, that I was too self-absorbed to kill myself. It is a ferocious lie. Other than being one of the only of my family to espouse empathy, I am also capable, when I decide things, of getting them done. No, I am here today because as the last little vestiges of hope for a better life were being snuffed out in me, I met someone. They touched my soul or my self, what have you, in a way none had before. I saw color again in my life and suckled it like a newborn babe. It put marrow in my bones and laughter on my lips. My eyes saw color again and it was blinding.

As my dear eaders might suspect, it was First Love. He tells me, he wasn't able to love me, so lost was he in his drama and abuse. That instead he merely mirrored back at me what he saw in me, to make me happy. It was jolting to hear I had essentially famllen in love with myself. I felt betrayed and befuddled by the obvious truth of what he said to me. My narrative was that silly one of true love saving the day. When what it really was, was only me saving myself. But here is the instresting part, I was recieving back what he wsaw and erpceieved in me. It means I never lost my color. Excuse the self indulgent tears. It means I was more than I gave myself credit for, stronger, more alive, and not as gray as they made me feel. I never lost my empathy nor ability to care and ultimately love another, even in the middle of my abuse. I remained whole, so f*ck them. I was in pain, deeply, but not dead.

So being my own savior after a fashion, I find the fit perfect. Am I self-absorbed? Sure, why not? I am also empathetic and deeply moved by the human condition as well as each person I connect with. I am not ashamed of my chosen dependence nor my priorities of humans before art. Never. I am color and reject soundly the concept that my family now soft pedals to me that I am less than. Less than their first choice, best aspirations for me, less than the perfect for them daughter, etc... Yes, I intend to fall short of those until the I die, their desires for me. Always, because I think what I have done in my life is more, more than what they thought me capable of and, all things considered, I am a lovely family addition. I can check my needs at the door and attend to them, that I don't spend my hard-earned vacations with them, well, you know, F that. So true love didn't save me, great, let's toast to me!




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