It was 1.07a.m last night (or was it this morning?) when I came to a conclusion. I did this with R.E.M on replay, watching wispy shapes on the ceiling made by the passing headlights of cars.
The conclusion is (drumroll please)…
…no one really knows the real me.
Nothing particularly revelatory there. It’s the kind of thing people sing about. We all think we know the truth to that statement. And so did I. But it was only last night that I acutely felt the reality of it.
I’ve always been an intensely private person. I knew that right from the start, I was different in so many ways. I was aware that my skin colour differed from my peers, that my hair was curly and not straight. I was overweight. My family was different too—my father never signed my report card. I felt the need to conceal all these from people. I became ashamed about my unique situation and resolved never to reveal too much about myself to others.
While I’ve had firm friendships, I’ve never a friend whom I’ve bared my soul to. It hurts me to say this, but that’s the truth. Everyone gets a piece of me, but then again, it’s just a piece. While in recent years I’ve become more comfortable about talking about my dysfunctional family, there’s still so much I’m hoarding inside. I’m afraid that no one will really understand.
My mother thinks she knows me, but at last she doesn’t. This is particularly sad as she’s my closest friend, and yet my closest friend barely treads the tip of the iceberg that is me.
This became apparent after a short argument I had with her. I wanted so much to shake her and say, “But I’m not like that!” And then I realised that by doing so, I would be destroying her image of me. The person that she wanted me to be, all her life. So my temper deflated and I let it pass. In those few minutes, the space between the both of us widened into a gulf. She seemed a few light-years away.
At 1.07a.m last night, with R.E.M on replay, my relationships with people felt as insignificant as the shapes on the ceiling.
For the first time, I felt very much alone.
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