- Books, Literature, and Writing
To Be Seen
I have been here for so many years unable to be seen. Unable to be fully understood. Hidden in plain sight. Eager and willing to learn but not needing to be learned. Those around me merely scratch the surface and are content. I realized it as a child. I used it as a tool to conceal my dark. It didn't take me long to learn not to need to be seen clearly. It didn't take long for me to learn that I could easily carry the burden of another's true self. The suns would turn to moons and I would age having been content in the life I led. A life spent pouring out into others who would only know parts of me. I would meet people who would swear loyalty to me and chose to love me even if they could not explain me or understand me. Perhaps that is the real reason that I fade but never leave. Humanity is limited after all. How long can someone hold onto what they do not understand? Fading is not a task for the meek. I may not fear hurt or feel hurt for long or in the same way that others do but I am not immune. It is hard to be the constant. It isn't easy to know people would allow you to fade. It is hard to always be the hindsight. Living to uplift those around you knowing that you will fall to weakness when you are alone is not easy. It is not easy to stay untainted and neutral when these same people return to me ages later or keep me in the banks of their memory. There is the choice to find honor and satisfaction or feel like the time was waisted when the time comes for the price to be paid. Calypso's cross is a heavy load to carry. I never leave. I embrace with an open grip. I am unconditional. You are allowed to dissipate and reform. I will be here until life leaves and for a chosen few, for eternity. There is nothing to forgive. I know my purpose. Charges come and go. It is the way that it is supposed to be with me. I have seen the reasons clearly. There is nothing to regret. Many times it is so much less about me and only about others. My only gift to give is acceptance both to myself and others. It is the gift of love on so many levels. You can allow yourself to be seen and not judged. You can be as strong or as weak as you want to be before my eyes and the view and story stays with me as I offer a break from reality and some restoration. It comes with no obligation or expectation. It comes in different levels and different forms to man, woman, or child. This purpose does not require the knowledge of who I am or anything other than my current or my present. The connection I provide doesn't seem to feed on my story but yours. So, I exist in my truest form only fully seen by me. I draw strength from seeing the core of others. My inspiration and zest comes from learning and accepting you. Connection is life. This is the life I have known.
Staind - Outside
The thought that someone could see me clearly stopped crossing my mind many years ago. It is something that, as a child I was afraid of, later wanted, then finally learned to do without. It became an impossibility. The thought that someone could even make the claim seems unreal. Although I do not expect it to be possible, the claim has thrown me off balance. It brings me thoughts that took days to sift through. It is new and difficult to explain. Thoughts swarm in and out of my mind creating a funnel and I wonder if this could be my Achilles' heel? Could this be what tips my balance? To develop a want that goes unprovided has rocked me in the past but to risk awakening a need is a risk? Risk is not usually a big deal to me since I don't fear most prices to be paid but this one seems different. I am drawn to it. I am compelled to see the core of the person who claims to be able to see me. The claim pulls gratitude and connection from me without rhyme or reason. The possibility of being known, how ever unlikely, sparks loyalty in me. I want to be a constant in gratitude. I have given the only gift that I have had to give to people without any expectation. The only thing that they had done to merit it was to have a light that called to me. They were good people with potential who were maybe a little tired, a little lost, or a little disappointed. I didn't want anything in return. I was getting what I needed just from offering the connection. The intent to want to know me or see me through to my core, even if it did end up being impossible, speaks worlds to me. It is a gift that is beyond value. It speaks so highly to me that loyalty seems like a small token in comparison. A part of me wants it to be possible and this is where the battle begins.
I am wrestling with things that I am not used to dealing with. I have always been an open, truthful person because I didn't care about the judgement of others. There was a lot I don't talk about for the same reason. My stories have always belonged to me. Not many people would take their blinders off long enough to ask for information past the surface level unless they wanted something. The genuine are few and have been kept in my life for that reason. They know more about me and how I am but I never wanted to be known completely. I chose this path. I created my ways. I can dive into people as deeply as I would like and come up for air when I am ready. The traces I leave behind of myself are what I chose. I put in enough to connect as much as I want but not enough to make me vulnerable. Everything that begins must end. Friendships like all other relationships evolve thru time. To be balanced enough to remain constant I need not fear hurt or loss. I must avoid extremes and so, in most cases, I have. Now a part of me wants this claim to be true. It introduces me to vulnerabilities and I see the risks clearly. I resist the flow. I question. Still, I am pulled. I seek. I connect, daily. I notice and am aware. I anticipate. The thought that this person could give me the gift that I have tried to give the friends that have crossed my path, a constant, is exciting and accompanied by the thought of losing such a gift.
Why? Why does it mean anything to me? In reality to me and in my life, you are just a neutral observer. Why does it matter? ... You claim to see me. I have done nothing for you. You owe me nothing. I have offered you nothing. There is no reason for you to want to see me clearly. I am the person who has always had to prove herself against the odds. I am the doubt. I am the long shot, the risk. I am the one that earns not the one that is given. I am not the one easily understood. Yet you would give the gift of attempting to understand me at all... it matters. All these words later and its still difficult to explain.
How can you see what I can't explain?
It took all of this writing and thought to get to the root. Just the idea of acceptance for all of who I am is priceless. I have acceptance. I have had great loving friendships and relationships. I have had people accept me, keep my friendship, or love me despite what they did not understand. I have had people fade because of what they did not understand.