I was not attracted to him the way it is described in films or well-read, easy to fit in smaller hands, paperbacks, that you loan from the library. I liked the way his voice sounded. Listening to him speak, in its hues of quick silvers and colds, and lemons, and a steady beat of uncertainty that felt familiar.Β I thought he was like me.
I thought we walked the same tightrope of weirdness, navigating peopleβs glares down their noses of judgement and self-righteousness of how much better they were than us because they were NT and we were not.
I lavished, (FINALLY) in the gorgeous idea that there was someone I did not need to explain every single movement I made to. That they would just understand my need for order (or sometimes complete disorder) because that is just how my brain works. One sentence has perfect structure. The next makes no damn sense at all. On the surface, he glimmered this oasis of hope.
It was a well-manicured act.
When he got to me, he told me he wanted a relationship. He wanted me. He talked to me for hours and hours for weeks. I was overwhelmed. I was not sure what I wanted but I liked the attention.
He was hardly the only one I got it from (it is not like I am a total hag). I was dating after all. It was the first time in my life I was actively looking for a romantic partner.
They found me, the people I was with before. Either through a friend or I randomly got stuck in their orbit.
I never chose them.
I was baited like a mouse with cheese and before I knew it, I was trapped in a cage.
I played the part as well as I could. I was a very bored, domesticated pet.
They were always proud of their conquests for a while until they realised what they caught.
The abuse varied from person to person but each one did abuse me.
I asked my therapist if it was my fault because I was not smart enough to leave. Or because I could not connect enough to love them even though they tried to love me.
I cannot love you. Not in a way that is going to warm your heart, anyway.
I can feed off of your passions. That is what does it for me β how you engage your brain. The last one loved history. It made him desirable the way he could recite facts about dead and gone people, places & things.
The one before him adored comics and cartoons. I would talk to him for hours about different storylines and we would lose days on different planets with each other.
One of my longest-standing crushes loves music and is amazingly talented. I dream of laying on the floor & listening to him play while the room floods with spirals of sights and tastes created by his body. The new universes he can transport me to without leaving the room.
But when this fades the conversations remain lovely but my ability to find interest in the person wanes.
Which is why I tend to stay detached.
I do not want to be the one to hurt anyone either.
That is what made him & me magnets to each other. Our inability to commit β his because of his past hurt & my teflon coating.
Yet I still managed to get mangled.
