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Doubt is my least favorite, and most common, visitor. It's rarely rational, but that makes it harder to exile, not easier; I can reason passably well, but irrationality is harder to deal with.
The theoretical undertaking of some time past is becoming actual; as things progress (assuming that they do) this actuality will become noticeable actuality. Is this what I want? I am not certain, at this moment. 'Yes', is the most immediate answer, but that has the feeling of the mental equivalent of muscle memory; when "that" happens, "this" is the response. Doubt comes in two forms, today: the more I move toward undeniable externalization of what I intend, the more odious perceived lack in me feels; the more visibly other I become, I worry that I will necessarily become more alienated from social contact (which I can admit that I crave and need).
Latter first (the theoretical is easier than the actual): it isn't that I doubt that those dear to me would be abandoning, but rather, that my manifestation of dissatisfaction with the binary choices presented me might lead to the choice for them of "hanging out with A and being called into doubt by others" or "not hanging out with A so that social interactions aren't hindered". I can admit that it looks very silly, to see that written out. And yet... in general, if one makes manifest differences that are meant to be either/or, or at best, exit from/entry to, with no Perry-like intent to find said poles, how can interaction not suffer?
It appeals to my incredulous vanity to be found attractive (the tiny one has always claimed to do so, but is most often exempted from the rolls because she is, in fact, so exemplary). While not necessarily what I want or desire, to be attractive in the way I suspect others mean when the label is laid, it is some form of nourishment; I am afraid of losing that, also. The label "freak" hangs just out of reach, ever in the future, when and where I least expect it. That I sometimes apply it to myself is a foolish form of training; with enough practice, enough self inflicted wounds, the hope is that wounds inflicted by others will be less hurtful. That, too, looks very silly when written out.
Condensation of meaning: I fear becoming more alienated, both from people in general and those whose kind regard matter most to me; I fear losing whatever tiny entry into the domain of aesthetics I might have, and become a sort of patchwork creature worthy of some pity, but no real regard or delight.
The theoretical undertaking of some time past is becoming actual; as things progress (assuming that they do) this actuality will become noticeable actuality. Is this what I want? I am not certain, at this moment. 'Yes', is the most immediate answer, but that has the feeling of the mental equivalent of muscle memory; when "that" happens, "this" is the response. Doubt comes in two forms, today: the more I move toward undeniable externalization of what I intend, the more odious perceived lack in me feels; the more visibly other I become, I worry that I will necessarily become more alienated from social contact (which I can admit that I crave and need).
Latter first (the theoretical is easier than the actual): it isn't that I doubt that those dear to me would be abandoning, but rather, that my manifestation of dissatisfaction with the binary choices presented me might lead to the choice for them of "hanging out with A and being called into doubt by others" or "not hanging out with A so that social interactions aren't hindered". I can admit that it looks very silly, to see that written out. And yet... in general, if one makes manifest differences that are meant to be either/or, or at best, exit from/entry to, with no Perry-like intent to find said poles, how can interaction not suffer?
It appeals to my incredulous vanity to be found attractive (the tiny one has always claimed to do so, but is most often exempted from the rolls because she is, in fact, so exemplary). While not necessarily what I want or desire, to be attractive in the way I suspect others mean when the label is laid, it is some form of nourishment; I am afraid of losing that, also. The label "freak" hangs just out of reach, ever in the future, when and where I least expect it. That I sometimes apply it to myself is a foolish form of training; with enough practice, enough self inflicted wounds, the hope is that wounds inflicted by others will be less hurtful. That, too, looks very silly when written out.
Condensation of meaning: I fear becoming more alienated, both from people in general and those whose kind regard matter most to me; I fear losing whatever tiny entry into the domain of aesthetics I might have, and become a sort of patchwork creature worthy of some pity, but no real regard or delight.
