It’s been several days of exhaustion at some time of the day, so much so that I have felt as if I were not really awake for hours.

I’m tired of medical everything.

At the bottom of my heart there is a desire to go back to being a complete and utter unknown, just a real face in the crowd, but without the heartache that I had not done anything at all for myself in the world (at least what little I’ve managed to accomplish to this date).

What is it about a private life with few and very meaningful people around me, the rest of the world irrelevant and kept at a distance? Perhaps because I have found perfect peace there before, love, warmth, feeling safe and protected. The world outside is such an unknown, and my experience with it at large does not make me think the best thoughts about it – anger, envy, greed, selfishness, even bodily threat, whirling around and a potential almost constantly, a jungle in which you must carry a machete and be aware of the slightest noise, the slightest movement, as a harbinger for an enemy.

As a woman I feel especially at risk. There are many things I could do if I felt safe, but the world has not demonstrated to me that it is safe, not even in the parallel, “amorphous” world of the internet. Predators lurk there, and people’s “best” seems possibly tainted with ulterior motives, how can I really know if people are genuine or not, without seeing their faces and getting a real life vibe? There isn’t ever a real humane regard for a person out there either, or if it is there, it is scarce, not common to find. So that world has crashed down for me as the real world has, and people I would trust – oh that number is most definitely microscopic. This has been a disappointment to face, I will admit, though inside I knew it was an illusion to see things otherwise. Sometimes really all I can cope with is my own small family.

I wonder sometimes about the people I crossed paths with intensely at one time, only to be separated by a sudden recognition, or delayed admittance, that once again I was playing my knee jerk game of fevered, projected hope onto whatever shadow of them I happened to meet. The signs of disillusionment show in my face. It’s become increasingly difficult, it seems, for me to make a genuine smile, even in a photo that I take of myself … when did this transformation happen? It’s not that I don’t laugh, but my smiles and joy are reserved now for people I know I can trust, who have stood with me over time, through all of it good and bad, who I know are really and truly invested in me as I am in them. Are my standards too high? Am I too sensitive? Too serious? But what can I do if that is my nature? How can I be expected to invest any energy, at this stage in my life, on people who hurt me, mislead and use me?

No. I shall take my few gold people, and I will be happy and relieved that I have them, at least I have them. The little I have left in me will be for them, and when I am gone, my existence here will not have been entirely for nothing.

Every Thursday

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