Crap, I'm sensitive. I have known this for awhile, but I've had one of those weeks where it feels like a spotlight is being shown right on that ripple in my force field. I say that as if I don't have thousands of ripples in my force field, because...literally, there has to be thousands of ripples. In my force field. The way I'm saying this has me wondering what I'm actually talking about when I say "ripples in my force field", and my God, the word "ripples" makes me think of both Kelly Ripa and nipples. What am I talking about? I was going to use the term "chink in my armor", but after that Jeremy Lin-cident, where that sportswriter was fired because he used the headline "Chink in the Armor" when referencing a bad game by Mr. Lin, who just happens to be Chinese, and woops! racist...I'm never using that statement again. Except for when talking about that sportswriter who got fired for using "Chink in the Armor" for his story about Jeremy Lin. So yeah, my sensitivity: it is a huge ripple in my force field. Kelly Ripa. Nipples.
I wonder why I feel this way. Why I feel like it's a weakness in my otherwise super human bulletproof hard candy shell. I mean, where do I get off thinking I have a super human bulletproof hard candy shell? Seriously? Where did this idea, this notion, come from? I'm a hard ass? Really? I don't think so. I don't think I ever have been like, a "for real" hard ass. Not ever in my life. Now that I'm thinking about it, I think it's my face! I think I have a snotty face when it's in it's normal position, therefore making me seem like I'm some sort of badass. Or making me seem "hard".
To be fair, there was a period of time through high school where I was an absolutely horrible piece of shit. My parents, sister, teachers, strangers who I threw eggs at, they all can attest to this. I was miserable for a lovely stretch of time that must have felt like an eternity to some people. And yes, I admittedly did not care about much, I lied, I did unspeakable things, I was mean...let's be honest, I was a true c*nt. But I think when you average it all out, my childhood, teen years, twenties, and now...I'm more sensitive than anything, and I always have been.
I've had a few friends tell me that before they met me, they thought I was mean, and were maybe a little scared of me. While this did puff up my already sizeable chest, it didn't take long for them to realize that I'm pretty much cotton candy. Soft, sugary, I dissolve in water, and make children crazy. On the real though, I'm soft as shit. Or cotton candy. While shit is in fact soft, it does not smell pleasant, and I'm one of those people who smells awesome most of the time. I lost myself again...
Right, I'm sensitive. How does one change that trait about oneself? Is "oneself" a real word? I don't mind that I cry at everything, tearing up happens on the regular with me, and I'm fine with it. I actually like crying. I think it's healthy. But maybe I'm too sensitive. I've seen that it can lead to a certain...ugliness in me. An ugliness tainted with insecurity, and snottiness, because what you just said hurt me, but you didn't mean for it to hurt me, but it did, probably because I'm sensitive, and that's weak, right? And I feel it happening, I feel the words bubbling up in me that I know are the wrong words to say, I know this, and they won't help anything, and FAHCK! I just said them, and now I can't take them back, and I'm wounded, scrambling, cursing myself because I know what I've done and why, and FAHCK! this hurts, and how do I explain why it hurts, because now I'm not being talked to, or I'm angry, and I don't want to talk, and I'm angry with myself because again, I know, I did this, I know, and I'm hurt, I'm hurt, I'm hurt, and I'm hurt because I'm too fucking sensitive, and I've just essentially diarrhea'd on myself and am standing alone in a mess not knowing how to clean it.
Maybe I take things too personally. Am I sensitive, or do I take things too personally? Or is it both? I'm not looking for answers(unless, of course, you've got some), I just...guess I needed to write this. I cry a lot. I like to be held, either by a person, or by words, it doesn't matter, I like to be held. I'm sensitive to a lot of things, and to a lot of things that don't have *anything* to do with me. Which means I take things personally. And I shouldn't. But I do. And those two things, sensitivity and TIP(taking it personally), are like, beer before liquor, they make me sick, and ugly with puke face. And I'm sorry to those of you who have been caught in that with me, and...it's Thursday, May 3rd. And this is how I feel today.
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