I had a dream last night that I started talking to my husband’s friends again. I felt that warm glow of perceived acceptance and reciprocity fall over me again.
Kind of painful. Will I ever leave this childish need for their approval behind?
I guess I need to finish growing up. The warmth and affection that was lacking as a child, I can never make up. Not unless I have a child of my own, and that’s not going to happen. No one will ever provide what I crave. Look forward. Leave the loneliness behind.
A constant in one of my non-canon, emotion-dump stories is the main character’s need for home. A place where one is wanted. A place with familiar faces, with no fear of what’s behind their smiles.
Is this concept truly fiction? Fantasy? I always hoped it wasn’t. More and more I think it’s possible, just not for me. You have to fit. You have to belong. If I was slight and slender, with beautiful hair and a made-up face, if I had gender-appropriate interests and behavior, would I belong at last? Part of me fears that’s the case. The other part of me knows about the coldness of social competition that happens when you become an adult. So it’s hard to say.
I wish I could meet people who were warm and open who valued friendship and camaraderie over social advantage. Many people seem to think,”Does this person make me look good in the eyes of others?” It doesn’t matter that this person would stick around far longer than anyone they were trying to impress. I’ve heard too many people gripe about not having any real friends.. Then I see the “friends” they were griping about, selected solely on perceived social status.
And here I am, wailing about the nature of the world yet again. Fiction is often about the ways the author wishes people could be, and I’ve spent too much time reading fiction. A cycle that I don’t know how to break; I read about people I’d want in my life and I think, I can find people like these. But the people in novels and comics, they don’t exist. They’re idealized. I idealized The Couple, who seemed warm and open but were just as judgemental and cold as anyone else.
I wonder how much longer I can keep believing in the concept of home and family. These concepts are ones I have to have faith in. I feel like the world is gradually chipping away at my beliefs. This must be what it’s like to be someone who follows a religion who gradually falls away from it. Only, I’ve never believed in a supreme being, just in the best of other people…
…that I’ve read about in books.
Well, I’ve come full circle.
So, what do I do? Do I stop believing in people, that they can be better than they are? Or do I accept reality, that people are complex and that I may never find who I am searching for?
I don’t know. I just don’t know.
I have to find a way to reconcile all of this.