I can’t always care about you. I don't always have it in me. I realised that many of my past caring moments tied in with the idea of being accepted. Caring not only lets me fit in, but in return lets me experience being cared for. I thought being cared for was something I wanted. I thought I wasn't cut out to be alone. It turns out the opposite is true.
Being accepted requires me to wear a mask, and that mask hides who I am. And so, if I feel I can no longer live behind it, then I simply won't care like others might. I could try to explain why, but it might not make sense, and it's not really something I want to do anyway. I need to be who I am, and that means there are some things I probably won't have anymore. As the mask was never the real me, the truth is I might not have been caring anyway, I just looked like I was.
Which is why I think I bother some people now, because I don't fit into their idea of how I'm supposed to be, and that makes them feel uncomfortable. It's not my job to make them feel comfortable. Being uncomfortable brings an opportunity to know ourselves better, rather than hiding behind a mask as most do.
I can accept being outside, as me, rather than inside, as something that isn't. I can't say what I am exactly, I just know what I can't be any more.
Being accepted requires me to wear a mask, and that mask hides who I am. And so, if I feel I can no longer live behind it, then I simply won't care like others might. I could try to explain why, but it might not make sense, and it's not really something I want to do anyway. I need to be who I am, and that means there are some things I probably won't have anymore. As the mask was never the real me, the truth is I might not have been caring anyway, I just looked like I was.
Which is why I think I bother some people now, because I don't fit into their idea of how I'm supposed to be, and that makes them feel uncomfortable. It's not my job to make them feel comfortable. Being uncomfortable brings an opportunity to know ourselves better, rather than hiding behind a mask as most do.
I can accept being outside, as me, rather than inside, as something that isn't. I can't say what I am exactly, I just know what I can't be any more.