The comparison that the author draws is to an old friend you run into at the grocery store, and are surprised by how she looks. The comparison I draw is what would have happened if you met me in the grocery store when I was 11 vs. when I was 14.
By 14, I was the same absolute shell of a person, and 99 percent of my processing power was used for two things. The first was trying to predict everything she was about to do or say so that I could be prepared for it- positive or negative. The second was how to keep my feelings running underneath the surface so that no one could tell I was doing it except me.
I am a terrible fucking liar, because my words seem sincere and you can look at my body and tell they’re not true… but you won’t, because you don’t want to get that deep and even though I’m a bad liar, I am a beautiful one. It’s ok.
I don’t want to get that deep, either.
I want to protect myself from the outside world, because even though what I have is a big ball of emotions that torture me all day, every day, I know them. I walk them daily. They are mine, and we get along now. To introduce a different emotion is scary. I am doing what I can to maintain and I cannot do any more. If you change one thing the house of cards comes tumbling down and I will not forget it was you that threatened my house.
The friends I have now are the ones that kept torching my reality even when I said I couldn’t take it and please for the love of God, stop.
It was so wrong, and so comfortable.