The other day a friend texted me about two guy friends of hers. One of them responds quickly and gets all her jokes. He laughs at her pictures and responds with another one. The other one responds vaguely, and it’s usually a little more difficult to get ahold of him. She said she felt really bothered by this. She said she felt like chocolate, and that yeah, some people don’t like chocolate, but chocolate doesn’t really feel great when it’s unliked, even though most people like it.
I told her that I wasn’t so sure that that’s what it was. See, everyone has a different love language and a different way of communicating. But everyone loves the way they want to be loved. And everyone communicates the way they want to be communicated with. And so if someone doesn’t respond right away, they probably don’t expect you to. If they don’t send you funny pictures or have hilarious responses to your jokes, it could be that they think you’re funny, they just don’t communicate that way. But friendships do take communication.
I feel a lot like chocolate covered bacon, I told her. If we’re sticking with the dessert references. I feel like I’m something that people shouldn’t like. Like I’m something that some people think sounds so awesome until they try me. Or the opposite, that I sound horrible, but once people give me a chance, they’re hooked. But even more so, there are parts of me that are so sweet, that people love, and parts of me that are savory that people crave. However, when mixed, they’re not always what you want.
I feel unappreciated. I feel like a joke. I feel like an acquired taste that no one wants to take the time to acquire. But I hide away so much at the start that I have to put some of the blame on myself.
I had a discussion with people. I’m being vague on purpose. We talked about having people in your home when you come home from work. Especially when your house is the size of three vans. How 2 extra people can feel like 10. But the other participants of this discussion dwelled on the noise issue. People should be quiet after 10pm. I have social anxiety. And I’m so much better than I was a year ago. But for me, dealing with people has very little to do with the noise factor. It has to do with the presence of unwanted people in my house. So telling me you’ll keep it down doesn’t make me feel better.
On Wednesday night I came home at 11pm after a stressful day at work to a group of people hanging out in my living room. Yes, some of them live here, but not all. And it was too much. I can’t feel comfortable in my own home. They said they were being quiet and that they were making brownies, but they also always fail to remember that I don’t have a door. I went outside to grab my phone charger and had a full fledged panic attack. Why is it okay for me to come home to that?
And maybe I do need to learn to live in community. But I’m the kind of person who needs to wade into the water, not be thrown into the waves of the ocean, drowning. I feel like I’m drowning. I forgot my life-vest.
Maybe it’s time I move out. Maybe it’s time I move on. Because my broken heart can’t keep beating. My bruised lungs can’t keep breathing. And no one can hear my screaming. No one can hear the words I pen. No one reads anything that comes out of me. Because I don’t even matter. I’m just trying to live. I’m just here. But I want to be more than that. I want to be loved. I want to be cherished. I want to be invited. I want to be sought out. I want to be asked. I want to be chased. And I want to matter.
Or I could just run away.
Or I could just disappear.
