the loneliness of never being able to explain yourself completely
Sometimes I’ll explain something and immediately think,
No. That’s not quite what I mean.
So I try again.
Then somehow I’ve made it worse.
There are things about me that make perfect sense in my head and sound completely different once I say them out loud.
Maybe I’m using the wrong words.
Or maybe there just aren’t the right ones.
How do I explain why one comment bothered me when technically it wasn’t that serious?
Or why I miss someone I don’t want back?
Why I can be happy and still want something different?
Sometimes the honest answer is:
I don’t know.
I just know how it feels to be me when it happens.
And I think that’s what gets me.
Even the person who knows me best will never know me the way I know myself.
Actually,
I don’t even know if I know myself that well.
There are things I’ve done that I still can’t explain.
Feelings I understood only years after having them.
Versions of myself I completely misunderstood while I was being them.
So maybe that’s the strange part.
I spend so much time wishing someone could understand me completely,
when I’ve had my whole life to understand myself,
and I’m still asking questions.