I need to tell you, right now
This may in fact be a psychosis, not sure yet. If something happens, I really do need to tell you because Sharing Is Caring and why, unless facing extenuating circumstance, would one hold off on the Caring, dearest Reader?
More interesting — though I might be the only one who finds it this — is that I can’t tell you just once. I need to tell you maybe three times and in great detail to ensure I don’t miss anything and I don’t misrepresent something inside of my head. This is my way of communicating clearly so that the person before me never thinks I have lied and actively created a counterfeit of reality.
I am extremely sensitive
Very few people recognize this because, oh look, confidence is not allowed to be sensitive and most folks are more comfortable seeing others as one-dimensional cut-out boards. Less messy that way.The confused definition of confidence is that it bellies any kind of potential hurt or pain.
I am sensitive to the situations and circumstance of others, becoming more pronounced the more I care about someone.
I am sensitive to the way I am treated. A facial expression, a word, a physical movement from someone I hold dear could send me into shut-down mode. The more I care, the more potential there is for hurt. I don’t get emo about it, but rather I become a deaf mute. Almost entirely impenetrable unless you can make me laugh, which is how I unravel back to normal.
I don’t have a shell (because Laurie-Anne has mine)
I am known to act before and without thinking. In the same breath, my friends will tell you that I can obsess and think too much. I know what you’re wondering, and frankly, I don’t know what in the shit this is, either.
The older I get, the more I am inclined to believe that this stems from my need for balance. That because I run head first into something complete with heart on my sleeve and open to vulnerability, I must then balance that crazy head-long rush with obsessive thinking.
Extreme action / Complete paralysis = 1 = Balance.
I think in numbers
Mathematical equations, to be specific. In my diary, I have boxes and arrows and addition and equals signs, because it is within the maths that my ass gets chilled. Also, because math is borne of clear and definitive equations, and because I am big on clarity, math works for me.
I imagine that this secret is a way that I might partially delude myself into thinking any uncontrollable circumstances may in fact be — at the very least — understood. Because it’s math, and math is easy and fun.
I am extremely naive
Like, to a fault. I will believe almost anything anyone says to me because I don’t imagine that anyone will lie to me. I don’t lie to people, so I don’t see in that shade, and am always shocked when I find out that I have been lied to by a lying liar who lies on the regular.
Again, completely countered by what some of my friends have (endearingly, I hope) labelled an Aspergers-like ability to draw connections between shit people say and do. Countered because while I am naive, you do not ever. Ever. Ever. Want to see what happens in my head when you lie to me.
Specifically, if you are a man about who I care. Don’t ever lie to me. NEVER. EVER. Lie to me. This is my absolute and total number one skyscraper of a trigger; one lie to me could erode the entire relationship if I find out the truth before you tell it to me. Personally, there is no truth a man could share with me that would ever come close to the damage inflicted by even the littlest lie. (Notwithstanding rape, genocidal activities in a former military unit, the beating of old people, etc.)
Now you know.