want to know something ironic? I'm two people, its true. The loving care free go lucky guy everyone loves and looks up to is a shell built and molded around cynicism and lack of trust. A empty shell of loneliness and distrust in not only everyone around me, but myself included. Low self esteem? maybe, in fact quite possibly one of the lowest, but its my choices i doubt, my actions, my thoughts. I feel best with people at arms distance, where I am close enough to reach out and help, but far enough away that words and actions of others around me don't effect me. So at the quickest possible moment I can vanish like smoke and not be trailed. This is me: the real me. A loving, carrying person, who would lay his life down for a friend, but wants no help in return. (seeking help actually makes me sick, and talking about not only my past but my problems sends me only further into dismay.) I try and build myself up, create an image I can wear to please not just my friends but those around me, but this is so I may have friends. Lets face it, my true character is nothing of the sort for friends.
And ask me, because i know i will be asked. "Why have friends at all? why, if this is who you really are, bother with keeping up friendships at all." Because I'm not happy at all unless I'm helping, and those i chose to help, i call friends. I seek their company and help out as much as i can. I see in their faces they want to be around me, I read their eyes and notice the warmth of the familiar feeling of friendship, and i cant help but be friendly, to be fun, and have a good time. At the end of the day, however, I go home. Lock the door, and sit in a chair as the four white walls of shame, doubt, guilt, and torture, close in on me like hounds. Ravaging and gnashing at me trying to tear what little sanity I have from this almost worthless shell.
The question is then posed: "what makes you care to help people, if its people you don't care for at all." Not true, i care much for people, i love people, and as a Christian see them how God see's them. Perfect. I help because it is what I am supposed to do, am born to do, and am created to do. No human can live a life completely devouring everyone around them, taking everything they own and at the end of the day call that a life. Living is only met when you take everything you have and divide it among everyone else, and still at the end of the day smile because you know you have done good. This is all i live for, To make others smile, to build them up, and help them achieve greatness. Yet i can not bring myself to accept the same generosity and kindness.
Simplistically a physiologist would call all this a lie, that no human could have such distinct differences in views. A human who distrusts people would not put out a hand to help, that deep down all this is a lie because I am seeking attention in the only way i know how: Pity. I would, however, like to think people know me a little better than to think I'm one who goes on a pity parade (though i used to in my earlier years.) that is not what this is. This is a confession, one i feel is long over due.
My biggest faults are my exaggerations for laughs and gasps, and while if anything important ever comes up, i never exaggerate, it is very apparent in my day to day life that most of my stories have been twisted or blown up to make them more enjoyable. I blame that on two things, one I'm a writer, its in my characteristics to for a story that grabs people and gets their emotions into it. Secondly my childhood, and when i state this last part, it was really the need of attention that brought me to the realization that a dramatized story makes for a better tale than a plain one. While i have many (and there are many) other faults, such as laziness, and the fear of commitment (which is why i have yet to really do anything relationship wise with my life) I see exaggeration as my worst.
My biggest fear to be bluntly honest, is the inability to protect those i swore to protect. Its that simple, that the man (and i say man, but i am hardly thus) I wish to be, lacks strength, and trustworthiness to carry out those promises. In the end i feel like a kid in a corner, standing in front of the mirror trying on his fathers clothes only wishing the pants might fit some day. (and when i say father I mean those i look up to and respect, those that came before me and have proved not only their faith as a Christian, but their determination to fight no matter what)
The truth, in the end, I'm no more wiser or stronger than that of a infant, just learning to breath, to scream, to realize. Realize that this world is bigger and scarier than anything dreamed up in nightmares. and like the newborn i seek refuge back in the warmth and comfort of what i know so well. Solitude, surrounded by nothing but my thoughts.
Yes i love people, but my fear is i'm not good enough to be loved.