You ever tell something about yourself, to someone you think is a friend, and have them react in consternation and disapproval?
I feel … ashamed. As though there is something intrinsically wrong with who I am. I want to crawl into a hole somewhere. It creates a reluctance to tell people about myself, and self-loathing when I give in to my very sad tendencies to emotional exhibitionism. To allow myself to be close enough to anyone to be totally honest is to be far too vulnerable. It is a conundrum: to be honest and be me, or be guarded and be at some deep level alone. Or be me, and be openly alone.
To be invisible or be unacceptable.
You people know me better than many, but oddly enough so often when I write I feel as though am talking to myself.
I fell while precinct walking. I sprained my left ankle, which hurts some, and reinjured my right rib, which hurts crapload. I am lying in bed, having taken meds, and wondering drowsily what to do next, other than give up and go to sleep.
Maybe life will seem brighter when I wake.