CAPTAIN'S BLOG
I have lead a very lonely life.
Arguably through no free will of my own. It has affected me more than I thought. It, perhaps, is the single driving thing in my life. Which is unfortunate, because it seems to be so deeply ingrained that it doesn't respond to reality. I have a loving partner who is the kind of person I have been searching my whole life for. I have a small online community of people who enjoy reading my writing. Or at least the memes I share. I even have a crush on a follower. How quaint. Two good roommates. A cat. A loving mother and good step father. A step brother I look up to but can't stand me and a sister I admire but who I can't stand. Even though she's said some undeservedly nice things to me. Like, to my face. Almost normal sounding. But it doesn't seem to change a damn thing about how I feel. About myself, about others - looking bac, this same feeling pervades and permeates every moment of my life. My childhood was lonely, but not perfectly so. I had some friends, but didn't see or talk to them anywhere we didn't have to be. Anyone who talked to me for longer than a few hours was someone I would certainly generate feelings for - appropriate or not. My senior year of high school, my friend and I were voted best friends in the yearbook, surprising both of us. I played online games, where I had a team, but still, not really friends. No one really asked me how I was doing or if I was ok. I didn't really know though, did I? What would I have said? I often wonder, though, if someone had taken the kind of interest in my life like I've heard and seen happen to some people I know. Especially since transitioning, I kinda expected more help - but things haven't really changed. I figured now I'd have the support of the community, but it just doesn't seem to be there. I guess I'm just an asshole. After I moved to Canada I was mostly alone for about 9 years. Overall, I would say this was the mostly cripplingly lonely time in my whole life. It stretched on for what seemed like forever. I went to university and got a degree or whatever, made a couple friends there, only managed to keep in touch with one of them since then. Funny, I guess I wasn't the right kind of asshole for most of them. That's good for me I guess. Not enough of an asshole to hang with the real assholes but too much of an asshole to hang out with normal folx. At my best times in school, I had friends, but still no love. No one had touched me with love in their heart for years, except for my mother. Massages and escorts were my only company. Then I was travelling for work - this only seemed to amplify my loneliness. Too stressed for escorts, ironically, my isolation only increased, despite being surrounded by people. By acquaintances, they were all just acquaintances. No one ever wanted to see me again, no one ever wanted to talk to me again. Once was enough. There was just nothing memorable, apparently. And now, the loneliness is self-fulfilling. People find it frustrating, suffocating, or it leads me to be distant, and uncaring. Either I care too much and suffocate them or I don't care enough and they feel neglected. I just want to be normal. I want to be frustrated but not crippled with rage - I want to be sad but not incapacitated. I don't want to lose myself in others, like I did with Natalia and so many others. I just want to be me. But who am I? Perhaps that is not a fair question. I know who I am. What I don't seem to know is how to bridge the delta between who I am and how I act under stress. When fearing losing someone. When that feeling of fear of being alone returns. When someone looks me in the eyes and tells me that they love me. That fear of being attached to someone meaning that they can hurt me. I just want to love and be loved. It's all I've ever wanted.
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AuthorChristina Hitchens is a trans female writer living in BC, Canada. She loves computers, animals, and a good argument. Archives
March 2022
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