12 April 2012

so empty, so estranged.

i will begin this post by saying that i have the pleasure of interacting with some of the most wonderful people. this is not, in any way, to say that they lack wonderfulness.

i ordered pizza today. this happens...twice a week. i don't actually order pizza -- i order parmesan bread bites and coke. but that is not pertinent to this story.

i ordered pizza. when i answer the door for the pizza delivery person, i typically haven't showered that day. i'm still in my pajamas. i'm not wearing makeup, my hair is a mess, and i look like death, warmed over. i answer the door. the pizza delivery person hands me my 2-liter bottle of coke, and asks how i am. i usually say, "i'm all right. how about yourself?" sometimes they reply. mostly they just stare at my chest.

i'm used to this. i get stared at all the time. i get groped by strangers on crowded buses. every person i've ever dated or hooked up with has made it known that my girls are my best feature, by far. people make gestures at me while i'm at work. and, occasionally, people call me things like "fucking dyke" when i ignore their gestures/comments and choose to check out a pretty girl instead. (someday, i would like to reply to one of these comments with, "i'm bisexual, moron." but, that requires confidence. which i lack.) when people say things like, "you're pretty," or "you look good," they typically mean, "nice rack." which is fine, i guess. i have one asset -- set of assets? -- people deem worth looking at/commenting on.

but it gets old, being reduced to that. there is a person inside of this body.

so, today. i answered the door. standing there was a cute girl, maybe 22. she was bubbly. her hair was curled in perfect, but natural-looking, ringlets, and even in the dorky delivery uniform, she looked good. she wore glasses, which i'm into. i love smart girls/nerdy girls, and glasses sort of give off that vibe.

she says, "hi! here you go." and hands me my coke. i take it. she asks, "how are you doing, today?" i said, "i'm all right." before i could ask the same of her, she responded with, "i'm sorry that you aren't doing better than just all right." this took me completely off guard. i signed my receipt, tipping too generously, as always, and handed it to her. she puts it in her pocket without looking at it, smiles at me, and says, "i hope your day improves, and that you get feeling better. bye!" smiles, and bounces off to her car.

more often than not, i'm annoyed by people with bubbly personalities. but this girl...i don't know. i'm not used to many people taking genuine interest in my well-being. or, at least not making their interest or concern known, verbally. i've struggled with depression and anxiety issues for most of my life, and i just assume that my actual emotional state bores people. i'm not okay. some days are better than others, but most days i just feel...empty. lost. terrified. distanced from the rest of the world. unable to access any feelings of peace. as if those who care about me do so out of a sense of moral obligation to the girl who hasn't yet figured out how to take care of herself. as if i'm holding back those with whom i associate.

but this girl. she seemed so sincere. she seemed earnest when she said, "i hope your day improves, and that you get feeling better." i shut the door behind her, and started crying as i carried my order back to my room. not loud sobs. quiet, steady streams of tears. tears of gratitude toward the stranger who saw through my "i'm all right" fa├žade. tears of sorrow for how pathetic my life has become. tears, behind them the hope that the pizza delivery girl is not the only person in the world who sincerely hopes that i get feeling better. and still, more tears.

bye for now.

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