I Am Who I Am

It is terrible time to hear or read hurtful words; 'you present to me a half-baked, half-hearted life', or 'you absolutely have no place in the future' and 'freakshow'. I took those like bullets, hitting my heart directly. So swift, straight and clean, shot through my core, if they were real bullets, death would be certain. It is perhaps the words are true, hence, hurtful. Or maybe not, hence I feel like I was shot dead.

I look back at the things I have done, and have not. Yes, my life is a 'middle-ground', of 'in-betweens', of compromises. I recall my son telling me once, he does not burn bridges. He told me he would rather stay in the middle of the bridge, so that he would be 'neutral', let things be. I replied almost immediately that it is not a good idea, because all my life, I told him, I stayed safe. And look at me now. Caught in the middle of everything, always pleasing others, concerned about how others' perception, and all the superficial stuff that people with no brains consider important. 

I have thrive in this grey life because of only one thing, really. I don't want drama. Yes, while I seem to project the wounded soul I am, I hate the drama I myself bring into my life. I kill myself seeking it, though. It is a consequence of being boxed in the grey. I live a quiet, comfortable, convenient life which works for everyone, so why rock the boat? I look at others and they seem to be alright with the everyday decisions of either a 'yes' or a 'no'. Well, I am not. I would say, 'let's see' or 'i will think about it'. That way, I am 'safe'. Thus, 'half-baked', 'half-hearted', 'freakshow'. I vent all I bottle up inside with words, my best friends: words. 

I guess I am those three words personified. Am I happy with that? No. But it works for everyone. Are others happy about that? I guess not. But it works for everyone just the same. A good friend described me as 'formidable' and 'tough' not because I am decisive. He said those stem from my ability to 'negotiate' and 'manuever' my way through the complex relationships in my world.

 I am wired with a myriad of contradictions that only the people who have the intellect of near-Carl Jung and the patience of a near-Mother Teresa can deal with. I am who  am. There are those who spit on who I am, what I can and cannot do. Those who belittle what I can offer. Those who find inadequacy in the best that I present. Those who insult my love, even when given freely. Those who sneer on my sacrifices, deem them nothing. 

Freakshow. Genetic fumble. Unstable. Therapist-needing. And other descriptions I find vulgar but I need to accept. Because I find no fault in any of them. I have always given all the best in everything I did, and I continue to do so. I am passionate about what I offer, when I love, when I sacrifice. To those who see all these as inadequate, that all these are not enough, I open the palms of my both my hands to take the whips. That is my choice. Should they choose to continue to whip and bruise, that is their issue, no longer mine. It is not martyrdom. It is resignation. I am tired of proving to others I am worth more than what they think. I will bid goodbye should they choose to walk away, as I am absolutely sure, not having me is THE loss of their lifetime.