in_decission

Someone very dear to me told me they don't know who I am, they don't understand me.

My whole life that's pretty much all I wanted, to be loved and understood, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe being understood isn't that important after all. Person after person trying to figure what I'm about, or where I'm coming from, or my 'motivations', that all used to bother me so much before today.

Now I'm starting to see: the more energy I waste attempting to be understood, to spell myself, or what I believe myself to be out for those people with the exact same look on each of their faces, the same blank behind their eyes, the more time I spend doing that, the less time I spend being whoever or whatever I may be. The less time I have to say what's on my mind, to do the things I want to do, to care for the people who are important to me. It's just one more fucking distraction in this world full of distractions. It pulls my attention left and right, back and forth over where my focus would rest if left unobstructed. Pulls it away from what's important, and real, and pure if only to me.

I'd rather be a question mark than a watered-down soul. Some loose fucking puzzle piece in the wrong box, waiting for someone to sift through them all, beneath the dust, and maybe put me back where I belong. But now I think, even if that never happens, even if there is no place for me, no comfort, no home, it's not the end of the world. It feels like it sometimes, but I'm sick of forcing myself in some place I don't belong, or worrying how the final picture will come across. Fear will never breed the completion I desire, I'm as certain of that as anything.