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Feb. 23rd, 2021 05:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
greenstormI suddenly feel so, so lonely.
This term, PDA, it's like learning the call number in a library where the description. I can find people describing things that look like me. Before I had to sort through a pile of books taken randomly off the shelves and work pretty hard to adapt a small percentage of them to my situation. Now? I sit through a ten minute video and have three whole-body revelatory experiences.
And so in some ways I feel more seen than I ever have. I just go to this call number and I can find things that see me.
But those are not my people. They're not folks I can touch, can go back and forth with, they're not folks who see me, know me, and hold me anyways. They're... kindred but not family.
And I have this feeling that the people who care about me will never know me this well, will never know me as well as someone who's never met me and doesn't particularly care about me at all. You know, I've been writing this journal for years and years and years and I've come to know myself pretty well. That knowing was a labour of years and years and I never expected anyone else to do it, not really. Maybe I had hoped.
And maybe now I feel like there's no point to hoping for that anymore.
Maybe I'm always loneliest when I'm closest to myself.
This term, PDA, it's like learning the call number in a library where the description. I can find people describing things that look like me. Before I had to sort through a pile of books taken randomly off the shelves and work pretty hard to adapt a small percentage of them to my situation. Now? I sit through a ten minute video and have three whole-body revelatory experiences.
And so in some ways I feel more seen than I ever have. I just go to this call number and I can find things that see me.
But those are not my people. They're not folks I can touch, can go back and forth with, they're not folks who see me, know me, and hold me anyways. They're... kindred but not family.
And I have this feeling that the people who care about me will never know me this well, will never know me as well as someone who's never met me and doesn't particularly care about me at all. You know, I've been writing this journal for years and years and years and I've come to know myself pretty well. That knowing was a labour of years and years and I never expected anyone else to do it, not really. Maybe I had hoped.
And maybe now I feel like there's no point to hoping for that anymore.
Maybe I'm always loneliest when I'm closest to myself.
