there's a reason they call it crushing,

and it's because it's crushing; the things it reveals about you. the shame, the fear, the grief, even, the loneliness.

i feel so lonely, and so ashamed of it, because i shouldn't feel lonely. i'm surrounded by people; my best friend from childhood is visiting this week, and my sister is back from New York for the holidays, too. i definitely don't think my family is all that good, but they're better than nothing, and if anything i should feel overwhelmed, overstimulated, angry, not...lonely. but i am. perhaps because i struggle with feeling unmoored, so, "dissociation;" you could suggest that instead of feeling alone, i feel ungrounded, and i want something - or someone - to ground myself to. except, it's both. i know it's both. i am not feeling separated from people, generally, but from people that really mean something to me, or people that i really mean something to, specifically. one of my new friends i made at the program i've been going to, he and i are no longer friends, and he won't tell me why. this is not only familiar to me, but something i've come to expect. i am the one who initiates, with many people, who don't always respond, and with many people, they don't talk to me if i don't talk to them. i found this out, recently, and it doesn't surprise me. i am disabled, and because of this, i completely agree being in the same physical space with someone is better, but i cannot always attain this, and when i can, there is always a chance that, as somewhat of a(n attempted) 'class clown,' as that's the mask i wear to cope with being unable to understand neurotypical communication, i am entertaining, but not liked, or respected, or...loved. in other words, i can make people laugh, but then i fade into the background easy. this might very well be insecurity, or trauma, speaking, but it is also true, based on how other people behave around me. and i so wish it wasn't, because i want to be a real human being. not just funny, not just vaguely present, but real. there, and in the foreground, and worth getting to know. worth getting closer to, close to. i want to mean something to the people who mean something to me.

....do you ever look at someone, and feel - i can only describe it as - warmth? they are warming you. you could sit there and listen to them talk, for hours, about any odd or mundane thing. they are familiar. you are drawn, not to how pretty they are, but to their beauty, sure, because you can see it in their eyes. you can see it in their eyes, in their mannerisms, in their movements, in the way they sit, in everything.

i told that boy i liked him, because i did. i do. i don't know how truly compatible we are, but i would appreciate the chance to find out, i truly would. that boy and i have a few things in common, for starters, we are both disabled, actually, but perhaps he doesn't identify as such. we are both artists. and we both love very hard.

and it is this last thing that made me so horrified of feeling that way for him. the horror of it made me afraid to see him. even though to see him was also the thing i wanted more than i could withhold. i couldn't deny it, i couldn't move away, but i also couldn't move closer, i was stuck in the middle between one fear and another; i was afraid i'd lose him, i was afraid i'd hurt him.

i met him at the program, before he graduated, and i know, he is kind. i know this because it is not just my impression of him, but the consensus reality, other people have remarked on it too. he is kind. he is considerate, empathetic, understanding. and he's also funny, and yes, he's pretty, he's a pretty boy, everyone makes jokes about it, including him. but he's not a person-shaped doll, he's a real boy. knowing what we have in common, i knew - i know - how much it would hurt, if we worked, and then didn't. we could tear each other apart. and i would never want to do that to him. if anything, i joked along with everyone else about how attractive he was, flirting back to him, bantering with him, teasing him, but then the thing i'd be far shyer about would be those quieter, simultaneously undeniable, feelings of...warmth. he could never know that i was looking at him like that, he could never know, that not only did i think he was decent 'eye candy,' but i actually felt the only kind of hunger that comes from true care.

i cared - i care - about him.

the thing is, there was a moment where i talked myself down from being so nervous around him. we had multiple successful conversations, and instead of nervous, i felt...the warmth, nothing else but the warmth, but the insecurities all came back when he left, because i got the horrible feeling that i'd run out of time. i wish i'd gotten not just more time with him, but more good time. more...warm time.

i want his whole life to be warm and glowing.

i want him to live a fulfilled life among the chaos of this wonderful, terrible world, even if i am not around consistently enough to see it. some sanctity in life, some peace, some respite, some growth, some joy, some freedom. this, i want for him.

he knows now.

and so far, he's said nothing to me about it.

i wonder, if i was scared, is he? or has he just discarded me? (ha! i made that rhyme!) oh, god, i'd be so good at being with him. i'd hold him with such gentle earnestness, respect. i already do, from within myself. see, the thing is, him being a real boy, that means he can choose to discard me, he can be overwhelmed with fear just like i was, he can be or do anything, and i have no say in it. 

my loneliness does not like this. my loneliness has me making up conversations i haven't had yet with people i haven't met or gotten to know yet, just to feel like i'm talking to someone; not quite hallucinations, more like a maladaptive daydream that i curse myself for having. my loneliness has me so afraid, afraid that i am not good enough, not good enough, not good enough, not compared to the people that have never once gotten told they had a stroke at 12 years old. approaching people, real people, feels like confronting the worst thing that's ever happened to me, and realizing it's still happening, realizing i am still there, realizing i am a failed version of myself, it's awful, but i do it anyway, because i crave connection, because i am a human being, and so i try to connect, but unlike real human beings, i fade into the background easy. this is fine. i have accepted this. i do not need more than i have. i can be grateful. i can do things from love, and not for love. i can love from the background. i needn't a spotlight. i'm worried it might make my ego even bigger. but i do wonder if i'll always be daydreaming. i may not be real, but i crave real nonetheless, right now, i am thinking of one real human being, in particular, and i curse myself for it, knowing that the point of him being a real boy is that he is not just an idea. he has autonomy, independent of me and my past. and i feel ashamed of wanting, because it feels at odds with this. wanting, for me, has always felt violent, like i shouldn't want, can't want, am scary, abusive, for wanting. 'why did i tell him?,' i asked myself, seeing nothing from him, but then i reminded myself, 'i told him, not to receive, but to give, and because i am honest.' he has autonomy, independent of my past. independent of my virtues, or my vices.

so do i.

i am not violent, not trapped in 'can't,' not scary, not abusive. i try to be kind, but i know that doesn't define me either. i am not "___." i am just benny.

i remember how it feels to want and be shamed for it. i also remember how it feels to be hurt and respond accordingly and be shamed for it. and, indeed, i remember how it feels to accept someone fully for the autonomous, real human being they are, put faith into them, and be betrayed, and find out i was hurt on either on purpose or without recourse, i remember it all. and it is all worth it. the hunger drives me. but so does the wonder, in this wonderful world. so does the warmth. get hit, benny. get hurt. feel hurt...now get back up again, and keep fighting.