Holly, Hedda, and Iman

“I think you should get to know me better.” 

At first, I thought I said that out of spite. To prove how little he knew and how much I did. I shouldn't say I “thought” because I did say that out of spite. However, most actions are inspired by more than one feeling. The words have been haunting me. Creeping into my consciousness. Sneaking up behind me. It usually takes more time for The Ghost of Conversations Past to bedevil me. I am weary though; too weary to meditate, too weary to lucid dream, and too weary to try to fix it. That happens when your cousin’s delusions force you so far into the corner that you have to stand up and leave. Anyway no need to discuss the unwell and their symptoms. What I’m really trying to express is that I'm having a hard time, I've no idea how to make it clear, and though I said that out of spite…Clearly the Ghost insists that I admit that I also said it in yearning. I yearn to encounter someone who could actually get to know me. The problem is, I don't know how to let someone know me. 

The first time I watched “Breakfast at Tiffany’s”, I was filled with dread. I was only 12, I honestly didn't understand what really happened in the movie, but it filled me with dread. Why? I only started thinking about this 4 days ago, but I believe it had to do with knowing I’d end up as some version of Holly Golightly in my adulthood. I don't know how I would subconsciously know that at 12, but I think I did. In addition to memory, my autism also manifests in pattern recognition. As an adult watching it, I don't just see patterns, I see me. I'm better off than Holly, I've done quite a bit for myself and I'm not a call girl. I am however, an eccentric, elusive, impulsive, nonconforming transient of a girl living in a large, messy studio apartment that she'll do anything not to spend time in. I have plenty of friends that couldn't even tell you my favorite television program. Not because they don't care to know, but because I don’t tell them. Men I date think they know me so well, they think they love me, they think I love them, they have no idea who I am. They feel close to me because I am kind, then feel shocked to know I've told them nothing about myself. I don't do it on purpose, of course, they just don't ask. I ask them and I watch and see their patterns and place them. God has not given everyone the talents he's given me. They aren't capable of what I am and I know that, so I should bridge the gap. I guess I just hope that if I don't, one day I'll encounter someone like me. A Fred to figure things out. 

I think I've gotten better with age. Brittyn says I have. I share more now. That's why I keep this blog despite its repercussions. It keeps me accountable and I make it public for the art of it of course, but also for anyone who wishes to know to be able to. Really I use it like a crutch. I think often about how I became this way. It certainly was not nurtured. My family shares everything, they indulge in even the most unreasonable of their emotions. They share them without concern for their validity or effect on others. I am not like that perhaps because of my discontent with them. Regardless of why, it is not nature and I suppose it's also not quite nurture. It is an adaptation. I only ever share my feelings with people who will both understand and respect them because everyone around me was irrational. I suppose that's what makes me use the blog the way I do. I don't quite know who actually cares to hear me when I speak of my feelings, so I speak them here and publish them for those who may want to know. 

Today though, I watched Hedda and I felt dread like I've never felt before. How does Henrik Ibsen know so much about the trenches of femininity? I am forced to believe his wife was writing and publishing in his name to avoid misogyny. I am depressed right now because I spent 107 minutes watching my Shadow Self on screen doing just about everything I've used every ounce of my self-control not to do. I know my shadow self well. I am okay with it and in control of it because of that, but it is so hard. The impulsivity only really manifests in my love life…and in SoHo…specifically in the Coach store. That's why I stay away from both my love life and the Coach store. I indulge though…everyone that works at AMEX or follows me on Instagram knows that on my weaker days, the SoHo streets connect with the souls of my feet. Anyone who sees my call log knows that I indulge in wanting to open up to someone that I really want to trust. I just don't fully do it because I guess kind of worry that no matter how hard I try, I wish they would do some work to get to know me the way I did them. Which is certainly the byproduct of my Shadow Self because I'm selfish, mischievous, and sometimes even inflammatory. Like Hedda, I wish someone would be as interested in actually knowing me as my father is and I guess I really don't want to belong to someone who doesn't like me as much as my father does. Is that bad? Maybe. Maybe not. Is it bad to think someone doesn't love you enough just because they're not as capable as you? 

I would never orchestrate something as Hedda does though, I don't think I would. I have many vengeful thoughts, but I fear God too much to act on them. 

Do you think I'm alright? Be honest