I’ve never been able to handle not-knowing, inaction. I’ve always been an impulsive, nosy, asshole. In some ways, I’m sure loved ones may find those qualities endearing, or otherwise something that comes along with whatever benefit I might offer to them. In some ways, I doubt if any loved ones even know what I’m really like.
In contrast to the way I despise not knowing or doing, I prefer when others take this approach with me. I’d rather die than tell the doctor a single sliver of information that may be directly or even indirectly related to my personal life, or my conscience. If there is no exchange, why reveal anything? I have no guarantee that my death may be prevented, so I will not guarantee that Doctor Almighty might learn something new about me. I need to hold on to the privacy I have, and to who I am, what I’ve done.
Knowing someone is always an exchange, I offer you bits and pieces- so you will hand me back something new, complete, made whole by who you are. I hate exceptions, I won’t compromise until I can figure out what the fuck is wrong with someone- to the furthest extent. I crave this wholeness, I crave the ability to give to someone only a fragment of who I am, and walk away holding them in my hands.
I used to be sloppier. I used to offer more of myself, felt more in-control when I gave more away. No risk, no reward. The more fucked up I thought they were, the more willing I’d be to fuck them. I’d fuck them and cry and wait for them to tell me why they do too, seeming desperately lonely, sometimes I was. I always got a return on my investment, always with more than I bargained for.
I was too stubborn to know when to stop, I was too naïve to recognize codependence, I was too young to see that I wasn’t offering them a fuck- I was there forward handing over every ounce of emotional labor left in me because I liked having someone depend on me. I loved knowing every inch, every detail, every part of someone- because they needed me.
In this same way, I will always be in love with those I know the least. I will always be in love with distance, in love with someone not knowing me, in love with someone needing me. My reality is a love affair with isolation in many ways, and I can live with this reality. In this regard, I am a nosy asshole.
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