The Giving Link

I see myself as a person who recognizes and understand when other people give clues to there mental well being. It's either empathy or sympathy, and I know that both really you with my emotions. I want people to experience pure joy....whatever that is. And, I want to make sure that I've been able to put a smile on someone's face. I try. I really try to see the world from other's POV, and I read body language and decipher social cues that tell me when and where my attention is necessary. And I expect that same attention to details for my own well being....even though I know, my need seldom ever get met unless I attend to them. It's the thought that counts. That's what I've been told my whole life. Didn't expect you out of others is what I've had to learn over the years. I mean, it's the simple things that eat at me when I see them draped out in front of me, from other, to others, when ", other's" show that side of themselves that I wish they supplied to me when it counts. That's not to say when push comes to shove, some people know how to be considerate and include me in their thoughts. It's rare, but someone comes through every now and again with a small gesture. Those gestures are usually a representation of current kindnesses and rarely evolve from years of "knowing and understanding" another human being. It's disingenuous to asset that no one really "gets me" or gives me an ounce of thought. I try to be present. I show my interests every day on social media and in social interactions. I am a man of 48 going on 49. I've been able to buy the things that I've wanted, create the ideas in my head, and be what I can be within reason, so that anyone who knows me, can really say they know me. Relationships are tricky. They're hard to solidify, when years of foundational erosion has taken root in every smile, sorry, shared experience, combined love for/hate of/confusion from the world around. My 49th birthday is around the corner. Jay's 53rd was a few weeks ago. I miss him. Every day is mundane. I struggle with whether or not he actually loved me when he was alive. I am tormented by the notion that he played with my feelings in order to get what he wanted. Jay used a lot of people who saw his beauty as validation. His devotion and commitment. His attention as genuine. Jay had a lot of faults. Part of how we felt toward one another was almost entirely true. Or maybe you can fake a feeling to make it feel almost magical? Maybe a kiss at 19/20, for someone with limited experience with such things, was just something two idiots experiences and experiments with. I was never fit to be his. And he rarely ever thought of me. 

And it was never just him. It's existed my entire life. I mean.... Maybe one day, someone will know what I like. Maybe someone will make the effort. Maybe the title that I think I hold with others doesn't really exist. Aside from my name, each day, I get up, rifle through a box of masks to pray for the day, and rehearse the entire playbook of an entire day to be sure that each interaction that I have with one person is similar to the next. It's a journey. I hope that someday, someone decides to strip me of my facade to share in the uniqueness that I offer as a friend, a brother, a lover, a man, a voice, a laughter, a son, an uncle, a nephew, a human being with feelings and emotions. Some days, I really just want a hug. Some days, I wish could sleep longer. I hate that I have to be twice as transparent to people who claim to know and love me. The dog and pony show is exhausting.