Thinking about the little compromises I make to be seen, acknowledged, accepted, etc, that I initially don’t realize are compromises. They seem such little things in the moment, but they become maintenance habits; they’re ultimately the framing and insulation of the relationships I build. I drywall it in the pretense that everything’s fine, so I can share this space with whomever I’ve adjusted for, because that’s what I want: human interaction. It would be nice if I could be fully myself, not the version that makes someone else comfortable. No one notices I’m not at ease, even in the presence of someone for whom I’m different. I don’t want to ruin things by bringing it up. It gets harder to maintain, though, so I ruin it anyway by pulling back. It’s exhausting, the constant repair. The foundation is solid, but the structure is weak, and I’m the one who took on the responsibility of keeping it up. All because I don’t think anyone would be willing to build it with the me I am.
