I go to the bar, because I have friends there. I know many people there, and they know me. We talk, we drink, we laugh, we sing. I get compliments, and I feel special again. I feel connected. I am happy.
I go to work because I have to. The world ain’t cheap, let alone free. But I do things at work that others don’t have time to do, don’t want to do, or haven’t done before. I “add value” – though I cringe to use that term. I have ideas, I perform well, and I get kudos. I am well liked and I am useful.
I stay in my baby’s arms because he loves me. I don’t know why, but he does. We laugh, we sit quietly, we go grocery shopping, we sleep, we eat, we love. We work – not in the way that I mentioned previously (well, we do, but…). What I mean is that we fit. Together.
There are very few other times in my life when I feel comfortable. Or even just OK. I like to hide a lot. I am text in a box, mostly. I don’t like going places by myself. I don’t always like going places with other people. Because I am invisible. Careless kids nearly careening into me on their bikes. Pseudo athletes looking right through me as they jog by. Alone in a crowded room, surrounded by disinterest.
I am not beautiful. I am not checked out by anyone. I am not looked at with disgust. I am not tsk-ed at in disdain. I am ignored.
There is no mold that I was formed inside. I am not hip, or goth. I am not perky, nor am I a socialite.
I have always bounced from group to group, clique to clique. Befriending some, but not all. Smothering some, keeping others at arms length.
I am often empty, longing to be full. I struggle with this, and have for many, many years.
The girl you see is okay, though. As far as you know. I take my comforts where and when I can. I will survive. I always have, and always will.
Someday, I’ll be everything that I want to be. Whatever that is.