With a Shrug

[Ariel]

Their houses sheltered me, their hands shook mine, and they saw me walk down the street as if I were there.But the life I live has no hands for others to shake.The I that I know walks down no streets.I live far away and anonymous.Disguised.Throughout my life and in every social circumstance, everyone has seen me as anintruder. Or at least as a stranger in their midst. Whether amongrelatives or acquaintances, I have always been considered an outsider.I’m not suggesting that this treatment was ever deliberate. It was due,rather, to a natural reaction among the people around me.Most people have treated me kindly. I suspect that I am a rare kind ofperson, who has caused few to raise their voice or wrinkle their brow.But the kindness I’ve been shown has always been devoid of affection.For those who are closest to me, I’ve always been treated well as aguest, but always with the same kind of attention accorded to astranger and with the lack of affection that’s normal for an intruder.I don’t doubt that this attitude in other people derives mainly from someobscure cause central to my own personality. Perhaps I have acommunicative coldness that makes others automatically reflect myunsympathetic manner.By nature I quickly strike up acquaintances. Most people are friendly to me right away. But I never receive affection.I’ve never been shown devotion. To be loved hasalways seemed impossible to me, like a stranger calling me by my firstname. I don’t know if I should regret this or accept it as anindifferent fate which there is no reason to regret or accept.I’ve always wanted to be liked. It always upset me that I was treated withindifference. That’s one reason I taught myself how to write, playmusic and sing. I wanted - like all orphans - to be the object ofsomeone’s affection. This need has always been a hunger that wentunsatisfied. I have adapted to this inevitable hunger so thoroughlythat I sometimes wonder if I really feel the need to eat.Sometimes I think I must enjoy suffering. But I know I’d rather prefer something else.I don’t have the qualities of a leader or a follower. Nor even of a mancontent with his life, which are the ones that count when the othersare missing. I have all the qualities it takes to exert influenceexcept for the knack of actually doing it, or even the will to want todo it.Were I ever to fall in love, I wouldn’t be loved back.All I have to do is want something for it to perish. A slave of my character as well as of my circumstances.-To be continued later. I hope I haven't disappointed anyone. It isn't my best writing, but important to me nonetheless.