My childhood therapist used to say i was more introspective than the majority of adults. she was probably right. not many people are forced to know themselves as deeply or adamantly as I was, forced to be certain. Hell nowadays teenagers agonize on reddit for the world to watch them doubt their own identity publicly - that wasn't an option when I was fifteen. Well, it was, but tumblr was my social media of choice back then. Tumblr shaped who I became in multiple ways, not entirely unlike how TikTok and Instagram are shaping the current youth. When posting is free, we're all a product. You could probably find my poetry on my tumblr if you knew where to look - I haven't changed urls in years.
I like to think I know myself reasonably well. I know who I am, my likes and dislikes. I know who and what I'd like to be in the future, although the trail as to how to get there is rocky and uncertain. My psyche has been dissected by enough therapists for me to be unsure if starting that cycle again is worthwhile use of time, but since my parents want it to happen, I'm not opposed to trying yet again in adulthood with someone who didn't know me in childhood. Very few of the people who knew me as a child are involved in my life. Knowing my childhood is not necessary to knowing me as an adult, but would likely help. After all, I knew my childhood self. She was quite a different beast from the man I grew up to be, a fact that probably relates to my fear of interacting with current children. Or maybe I just fear responsibility, although not as much as some people I know. I have a friend whose only reason for not owning a pet is fear of responsibility. My life has partially revolved around owning leopard geckos since I was fifteen. I don't consider myself particularly responsible; I struggle with executive functioning, especially organization.
Maybe I know myself so well because I was raised under the belief I wasn't going to survive. Even now, if I eat too quickly my mom frets like I might actually choke to death. And God forbid I actually do need help breathing, as I have often through my life. She acts as though my body's failings only exist to scare her, as though near death experiences were choices I made. And her behavior results in choices I make, like suppressing the urge to cough whenever she's near just in case it earns me a comment. She almosts seems angry when she makes said comment, but anger is a secondary emotion, usually masking fear.
Still, I think about how much of myself I'd need to share to feel known, and it's not the majority of what I've written here. It's not really probably a feeling I could obtain simply by being read, as knowing someone truly comes from repeated interactions with them, and I rarely succeed at obtaining that from anyone, let alone readers online. I don't know if I feel like trying all that hard right now, so this is what you get from me at the moment. I know myself, independent from others, as one of my main struggles in life has always been maintaining relationships long term, which means I've had to define myself in other terms. Aspiring entomologist, writer, artist...
ns216.73.216.10da2
and then Add to home screen.