Your Words They Sting
“Your words they sting
You make me sing
I want to bring you everything,”
- I Need Nothing Else
Sophie B. Hawkins
I spent the weekend in Sydney. I will have some wonderful things to say about the experience shortly, but this is something else entirely. During my trip a sixteen year old told me that I was “completely asexual” and “the most boring person on the planet.”
Neither of these remarks is really that earth-shattering in isolation. But they bothered me. They bothered me because I genuinely thought this person who had known me for all of two hours had looked me up and down and, fairly accurately, summarised my existence.
For all any one knows or cares, I am asexual. I have not expressed a desire in the longest time. The truth is I would very much like to be asexual. I would like to not be attracted to anyone at all. It would be easier. It would be so much easier. I wouldn’t be carrying around the kind of emotional scar tissue I currently contend with. I don’t want to be hurt again. I say that as if it is in past tense, though it isn’t. I am hurting. There are moments when I want to numb this pain so badly I crave to demonstrate my own mortality. And for all my efforts I can’t ‘resolve’ this. I can’t seem to bring it to any kind of finality. I tried getting distance. I tried building self-esteem. But what does any of it mean? All I ever wanted doesn’t want me. That’s what it all boils down to. I can’t change that. I can’t ‘do’ anything with that. It is what it is, and constant reminders are slowly killing me.
And it is this huge string of association. I cannot think of that without asking the question, why? My mind is eager to supply answers. In short, because I’m not good enough, but why stop there? Also because I’m fat, unattractive, stupid, emo… and, perhaps boring and completely asexual.
The other point seems equally valid; I am boring. I don’t actually do anything at all. I mean we can dress this up in any number of guises. We can say I’m writing blog entries and making videos and working on my own ‘creative recovery,’ but what is it really if not just another opportunity to disengage from society at large and postpone potential rejection… as much from random sixteen year olds as potential employers.
Have you ever read about the life of Petrarch, the Italian poet? For some reason, as I read this, I think to myself, “John is NOT boring and might find something valuable in what that guy did.”
My thoughts are not always accurate, but I still share them just in case. Cuz ya never know.
:-)
Hey John. Almost everything in this blog resonated true with me. I am currently in the exact same boat. I was hurt beyond belief by the person I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with (even did the whole marriage thing) and now it’s over. I keep telling myself it will get better in time, but will it? I mean, it is easier than it was a few months ago but just one little memory will trigger the depression and rejection that I felt when it first happened. Anyway . . . just know that you are not alone in your feelings and I am thinking about ya. *HUGS*