Is authenticity a joke?
Is it just literally impossible for anyone to be genuine in a superficial world?
Or is it just that we walk through this life never having any idea what we really want…and even if we do, we don’t say what we mean or mean what we say?
Is it possible to EVER really trust ANYONE, with all the deception, lies, bad intentions, hidden agendas, minds changed, whims redirected, abuse, anger, selfishness……?
Can you EVER really know SOMEONE..when most people don’t even know themselves?
These questions plague my mind and create questions, firing them relentlessly back and forth through my entire thought process. We as humans are relational by nature, we need each other..we don’t do well alone. And women, especially, are relational. We all need varying degrees of personal space, though I find that even though I don’ t need a lot of it, my personal space is where I feel most comfortable. Even if I’m most miserable there, it’s still more comfortable than the alternative. The alternative being trusting, enjoying companionship, hoping for days to come… because in that, I’m really just playing a waiting game, knowing that one day I will wake up and it’ll be gone again.
A good friend reminded me the other day that we are not promised true happiness in this lifetime, but that just makes me look to God and say, “What the HECK is the point of all this?!” And I know better.. I know there is a point, but there’s a few things that when missing, just make this life seem torturously long. I actually kind of feel gypped living in this century. I feel like I was born in the wrong era. For more ways than one actually, because I think I would’ve much rather liked to be Calamity Jana of the Wild West than a modern-day middle-class American. But this time I’m referring to the fact that it seems like the longer the homo sapien species reproduces, the more history we build, the worse we become as people. I know life wasn’t necessarily better back in the day, but it sure seems like it was simpler, and like people were more inclined to stick to their word, or stick up for what they believe in. Or maybe I’m wrong, maybe it’s always been this way-people constantly running. Running from, not to. From fear, from happiness, from love, from something they don’t think they deserve, from things they don’t want anymore, from oppression, from cages-real or imagined, from the deepest desires of their heart… Always running.
I am a people person at heart. Deep down I desire companionship and love. Deep down I need others, and need to be that person to others, that living, breathing, screaming invitation to believe better things. But I guess it turns out I’m just as bad as everyone else in the end. Others forsake their genuine nature for denial shaped by our culture and past experiences. Others don’t say what they mean or mean what they say. Others run. So do I. Because here I am, sitting here, trying to get away from people because I don’t want to be around the standard crap that occurs. I’m sitting here praying for independence, for strength, for the ability to brush things off and seriously just not give a shit about anything like some people do. I’ve been blessed/cursed with intense emotions and a very sensitive heart… but I’m sick of it. I’m sick of caring, sick of hurting, sick of dreaming and believing. It’s not what I really want deep down, but I’m desperately trying to convince myself that it’s better this way. It certainly is easier… I guess I don’t know if it’s better. But then again, I’m losing hope that better exists. I really do believe that deep-rooted belief in the female heart- that nobody will ever choose to be with me, that nobody will ever fight for me. I’m not saying this for sympathy, not at all. I’m just saying it because I don’t really see how there is anything else out there. This life is just a stage, some sort of game. Walls protect us, and love destroys. After all, I can thank Taylor Swift for reminding me that this isn’t Hollywood, this isn’t a fairy tale… I’m not a princess, and a white horse is not going to show up outside my door. Casper isn’t an exception, it’s the rule, and I really am just everybody’s fool.