Unspoken Distance

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I’m an adult now. No longer a child. I am about to start my final year of university (undergrad). Why then, does everything seems so far away? Why does it seems that everything is so far out, so far in the distance? Why does it seem like it’s impossible to get there?

Distance. That kind be a description between me and the world. I keep my distance from other people. They don’t exist. Not really, as far as I’m concerned – they’re not interactive objects.

I’m used to this.  As a child, I would escape the chaos of the main room of the after-school centre  by staying in the “quiet room”, reading. Or quietly drawing, making up stories and generally looking busy so no one would bother me. I kept my distance from the other children. I don’t remember why but I always kept my distance or at least I have for a long time.

Like an wild animal (or a not so wild animal, as the case may be) I flee at the sound, sight, feeling of approach, vowing to keep my distance. Keep away. Keep a watchful eye.  But above all,  keep away.

“Are you okay?”

Yes. No. I don’t know. I am wild, untamed. Darting away into the distance, where I feel safe and far away from people I don’t know or am not close to.  I am distant to most people, always keeping my distance and never really present. I guess can’t blame them for not knowing me, since I’ve never really showed them me (other than the deer-in-the-headlights side of me). I’ve always kept my distance because that’s what feels safe.

But the distance between me and everyone else has widened. So has the distance between me and my dreams. Everything feels so far, unreachable.

I don’t know how I’m going to cross the endless distance between me and society, or if I’ll ever. Everything feels so far away, close to enough to imagine but impossible to touch.

I don’t know if I’ll ever reach my dreams, shimmering out there light-years away.  Stars are huge, just like dreams. But here, grounded on earth, so far away they appear as tiny little specks, flickering in the atmosphere.  The actual star may not even be there anymore, but the light lingers for years to come, highlighting the distance between us and the stars. Because even given enough distance, even travelling at the speed of light seems slow.

Given enough distance, everyone is faraway, impossible to interact with – even though they are just footsteps away. But I cannot say a word. The distance – literal and figurative stretches on. We’re too far off in different worlds, too distant to interact. I’m too distant to belong, because even though people may be just around me – they might as well be on the moon as far as I’m concerned.

I wander in the close distance, unspeaking but not wordless. Far. Too far, to say a word. We might as well be from different galaxies.

People Watching

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Some may say I am not interested in people in general. Sort of true, but not really.

I am not interested in the following

  1. Greeting people
  2. Introducing myself
  3. Talking to strangers about random things that don’t matter
  4. Sugarcoating things
  5. “Being nice” purely for the sake of “being nice”
  6. Remembering and engaging in “manners”
  7. Answering greetings
  8. Having people look at me
  9. Looking people in the eye (besides for most animals it’s a threat)
  10. Interacting with strangers unless I’m on a mission
  11. Getting confused in social situations (it doesn’t have to take much for it all to go south as far as I’m concerned…)
  12. Engaging in social norms

Um, yeah so I’m not interested in interacting with people. But studying them can be interesting. What they say. What they do. And how my life is decidedly bland but that’s okay because socializing is a waste of time anyway (or so I think).

When I watch people or eavesdrop on them, I think of them as either characters and definitely a separate sort of being then me.  They are animals. I hate it when people go “oh we’re not animals”. Yes you are. Unless you are a plant or something, you are probably an animal.  Pick up your stupid homo-sapien ego and put the damn thing away. Until you either a) become some sort of bionic creature and/or b) ascend to energy based existence, you are indeed an animal. So suck it up.

The people chat idly, talking about this or that. But they are in a different existence than me.

When I was at school, I saw groups of friends sitting together – talking, laughing. Bonded.  Even at the barn I would witness this. The easy-going friendship and bond that people have with each other. I never understood how this worked or happened though. How everyone around me would bond with each other while look on, alone. I’m not even sure how this begins. It’s a realm almost unfathomable to me – foreign and unknown. I know about that world. From people watching. Books. Documentaries. TV. Movies.  The Internet (forums, blogs, social media). But that’s all I know.

I haven’t made a new friend since I was eleven years old.  But I’m okay with that now. I barely remembered what close friends were like. I laugh when people assume that I have friends. Yes, plural and probably presumably close.  But I don’t. Maybe I have a distant friend or two but otherwise, no. But I’ve never really socialized with peers that much.  Why would I? They never understood me. Ever. I never really understood them. Ever.

It’s easy to say if I talked to them, then maybe I’ll have friends. Not so fast – I talked to peers when I was a young child. However the only conversation I seemed to remember in detail went something like this:

Note: I had a weird haircut which was really short but with a long “tail” at the back during that year

Girl: Oh so you’re a girl!
Me: Yeah.
Girl: Oh I couldn’t tell with you hair.
Me thinking…you could have asked me?

So yes, I interacted but no, I didn’t have have friends. I think they all thought I was too weird or something. Whatever it wasn’t it didn’t jive and still doesn’t jive with me.

But people watching is way more interesting then interacting anyway – or at least, it’s easier.  And it’s interesting…enough that I once missed my bus stop because I was too busy eavesdropping!

But that’s the only “real” way I know about people. I don’t interact with them enough to know stuff. Besides, most of the stuff I know about friendships and relationships are from fiction anyway.

Longing for Different Space

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I was born in the city. I grew up in the city. I live in the city. Not just any city – Canada’s third largest city. But I’ve never really liked the city. Sure, its a fun place to visit perhaps. It’s fun to meander into through sidewalks, alleyways, buildings and the seawall of course. But I don’t feel that it’s me, that it’s my space.

My spirit bounces uncomfortably off the buildings, walls. It’s trapped in tiny spaces full of strangers. I hate small places. I hate strangers. The scents of asphalt, gasoline, exhaust and garbage faintly linger in the air as I try to ignore them. Horns blare, vehicles rumble, people shout and sirens scream. It sounds like chaos but it’s not quite chaos, just merely at the breaking point of chaos. Still, I can do without it.

I literally bounce between walls (and bed, heh). There’s not enough space. I’m restless yet listless. It’s hard to think within walls. I find I have the most poetic thoughts when I’m outside. I wander in and out like some sort of domestic but independent animal. A cat perhaps.

I don’t remember when I first realized that I didn’t like the city but I do remember complaining about it, even when I was young. Perhaps, I realized it when I was young, by my grandma’s house and wandering in the tiny patch of woods. Sort of like a sample offering of wilderness, a demo you might say in the form of a trinket of woods at the park – but oh I wandered that path so many times. Ran through it. Cycled. Or perhaps it was when I started liking and riding horses (since horses are usually in the middle of nowhere). I love the smell of pine, pulsing water and horse. All different spaces. All away from urbanity.

But with nature it’s different. My spirit doesn’t seem to bounce of the trees, the bushes, the gurgling creeks, the sway of the ocean and animals. But rather, it seems to seep into them, into their roots and into their flow. It’s an anchor into the earth and an anchor into being. Where my spirit can explore. Where I can explore. Travel. Move. Where I’m not stuck, bouncing off the walls (sometimes literally). Where it is quiet and not full of strangers wanting to greet you. There is a certain tranquility to trees, rocks and water – a certain feeling of connection, of being.

I hate malls, aside for the purpose of climate controlled wandering. There’s too much people. Too much stuff. Maybe I’m weird since I’m a girl. But on the whole I hate shopping (save for electronics, horse stuff and stuff that I actually want). I especially hate shopping for clothes and shoes. My idea of “fun” is certainly not spending a day at the mall, trying everything on. No, I tried an afternoon of that for my high school grad and that was more than enough to make me irritable. I hate shopping. I use stores for wandering. Weird, I know. I’m not fond of most windowless elevators either. Actually, I hate machinary in general. I hate the noise. I hate the smell. Ugh.

Sometimes, I rush out of the door like a starting gate, obvious to anything else and lost in the rush of freedom.

I don’t know where I’ll be or live in the future. But I do wish it’ll be somewhere away from the city. I wish it would be somewhere nestled in the woods or whatever the natural ecosystem is. Wandering underneath the trees.   Somewhere where there is space. I also wish for a pony. I’m not kidding. We’ll do some ringwork, of course – enticing lands doesn’t mean we should be lazy, perhaps even an occasional show for the heck of it. But our main pastime would be exploring these natural lands astride my trusty (i.e. non-spooking) steed. Maybe that’s why I like large mammals. We need space. (I’m not very big myself though).

But I don’t know if that will ever happen.

For now, a weekly riding lesson, a daily (or more) wander under the planted trees and the occasional short hike will have to suffice.

Yes, for me basically anything outside is a hobby (well, excluding ice-skating which due to our climate is not often possible outdoors).

Finding Home

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I want to go home. I want to a place where I belong.  I’m tired of being stuck in a place where I don’t belong. I’m tired of pushing against the currents of normalcy. I’m tired of lagging behind in just about everything (or so it feels). I’m tired of not knowing…about anything.

But I am lost.  I turn around to face nothing but shadows and silence.  Except for breaths – my own breaths, the only indication that tells me that I’m still alive.  Well, or at least I think I am. I look around to find nothing.  Where is home?  What is home anyway?  Did it ever exist?  Did it once exist but slowly disappeared?

Logically, of course, I have a home (not that I’m remotely close to living on my own).  But can any safe, quiet place with a computer (and maybe a bed) be my home as long as its familiar? Do I even really have a home? A place where I feel like I belong? A place to settle, to be “the place” of what I am to be?