My ideal self has evolved a lot over the years.
I used to think the perfect person was like Tohru Honda. Kind and innocent and unassuming and vulnerable.
I wanted that for a long time, and I felt betrayed by my own nature when I said anything remotely cruel.
Maybe it was the Christian part of me that saw the good in everyone for most of my life and took pride in my lack of resentment towards fellow humans. But my opinion of other Christians was the first to buckle. Either my vanishing childhood or my vanishing religion turned my skin tough.
I thought falling easily in love was a positive trait, that emotional vulnerability was desirable and that others would be attracted to someone who walked with a slit open chest.
But the more frequently I fall in love, the greater my regret builds and I know my soft heart is growing numb at the edges.
It’s fear and self hatred that presented me with a long-dreaded aversion to emotional touch. Or maybe it’s maturity. But why would maturity allow me to touch others freely while simultaneously refusing warmth?
I am afraid of vulnerability. I yell at my friends. I ignore texts to wean them off me. I’m probably more selfish than I ever have been, but under the pretense that barring myself from tenderness is a kindness because I am sparing my friends from that burden.
I want to be a boss ass bitch. I want to be powerful and lucid and attractive but not mean. I want to be distant where I used to wish I were present. I want people to question their reality and their sexuality. I want them to love me and fear me. I want to hold them in my palm and I want to feel great about it.
I am still obsessed with things and people. But I will use that trait.
I’ve been wanting to reduce my internet presence on social media platforms with which I am followed by people I know in real life. I want them to know as little about me as possible so that, by the rules of psychology, they will want to know as much about me as possible. I want to use my words wisely but not haltingly. To be confident but not obnoxious. Proud but not standoffish. Cool but not cold.
I can say this here because hardly anyone knows about this blog. I don’t want to be this calculating. I sound manipulative. I’m not that. I don’t want to be dishonest and I don’t want to hold things back. I’m already halfway to where I’m saying I want to be. I only want to be more in control and I want to know what I’m about. Uneasiness and openness are unattractive to me now, at least in my view of myself. I’m not so nitpicky about other people. Or am I? Recently, I become greatly infatuated with the prospect of a new friendship, but that huge interest dwindles within weeks. It’s becoming alarming. I absorb easily and quickly but nothing really sticks.
It’s strange. I’m very conflicted. I am a thousand pieces floating in unison. I just want to own all those pieces, and then some.