Sometimes I observe both adulthood and childhood from outside, with an adult’s intelligence but not at all an adult sensibility. My love is shown as either mothering or friendship or a mixture. My friends are really just large, experienced children, all playmates and caretakers for each other (no offence buddies) , and this model is quite funny–and revealing. I am perfectly able to recognize sex from the outside, but not feel it. This isn’t Victorian prudery, I have remained essentially presexual, the size of an adult. Yet I have a ten year old understanding of adult responsibilities. A disturbing state!
The feeling of being trapped in a slightly different stage: Different sexuality, longing and crushes, but unready to act–or unsafe. I flee commitment, But my life sentence has no possibility of parole.
Who wants to talk about feelings? I should avoid emotion. Of course I do! a couple of hours of stress can sicken me for days. I emotionally can’t afford to open up like other people. I can’t relive the traumas of my childhood yet–it’s not safe. They’re literally unbearable–not
I have to stop living on the fringes of this alien culture that doesn’t respect me.
I have to go home to Never-never land.
But knuckle down, grow up, fit in?
Ain’t going to happen!