Several years ago a friend of mine described me as “enigmatic”. It was only now that I realized how accurate of a description that is. I am an enigma. I try to pour as much of my soul as I can in my writings, but I don’t think I could ever feel comfortable being an open book in person. I don’t like the amount of vulnerability, though that’s not necessarily a bad thing. It’s actually quite good if you think about it.
Vulnerability allows you to establish a close bond with another person, and I guess for that reason I’m not too close with anyone. There’s a certain amount of personal information I’m willing to give out but once that limit’s been hit, then that’s it. And it’s not necessarily because I don’t want others to know about specific things. I just don’t like saying anything, or even give the slightest hint, about them. Does that make any sense?
I don’t tell people that I’ve been diagnosed with bipolar disorder or an eating disorder. They’ll find out from simply reading this, listening to gossip, or some kind of arbitrary source. I’ve gotten to a point where I’ve almost fully accepted my diagnoses but I have physical trouble saying it out loud, even to a doctor. I can’t even say it to friends I’ve known for almost a decade. It’s not the fear of judgement… It’s like I have this innate need to be some kind of unsolvable mystery.
Although it may seem so but I’m not proud of it. Like I said, it keeps me from forming close bonds with others. Because eventually… people get weary of the difficulties that are associated with my friendship.
It’s as if they finally realized that it’s a fruitless burden.