Phrenectomy

This is me trying to convince myself I’m not fundamentally broken and absolutely unlovable.

I love my cat more than anything. Lilith has shown me a love beyond gestures or words. There is something so sweet about coming home to her, knowing she was waiting for my return. Her softness and her purrs put me instantly at ease, not even 2 mg of Klonopin can do that most of the time. 

I have some friends. Not a lot, I can’t juggle friendships the way some of you can. But they are the best friends anyone could ever ask for. They take care of me because they want to (I’m hoping). I’m often convinced I’m only invited and taken care of out of pity, but I’ll take the connection no matter the circumstances. 

My family is proud of me despite my being the worst black sheep imaginable. The other day, my dad texted asking for the interview I did a couple of years ago because he wanted to show someone. That created some emotional turmoil, but at face value, it almost seems like he was proud of me. My grandpa is my biggest supporter, whether artistically or otherwise. I know my Grandma loves me immensely because she does things for me I can’t imagine her tolerating for anyone else, like making me ginger snaps when my tummy hurts in the summer.

I am doing well in school. I found something I’m passionate about and that I excel at. School helps my brain feel normal. My teachers think I’m very bright and are always interested in what I have to contribute.

I have trained rigorously to find the silver lining in any situation. If I weren’t able to do that, I’d have been dead a long time ago. It takes a lot to look at the huge streaming pile of dogshit that is my life and smile at it, but it’s possible. If I’m fundamentally unlovable, the silver lining there is that I can still put love out into the world. 

Strangers approach me. I don’t like it one bit. I hate strangers, but apparently, I give off the vibe of “yes, please come tell me your life story”. I’m glad that people see me that way, even if I’m not that person. It’s nice to be given the benefit of the doubt. 

I bought a 13-year-old snacks and energy drinks one day because he was $2 short, so I just paid for the whole thing. I like to do things like that, I like to be helpful and pay my gratuity forward. The look on his face was worth it, in all honesty. I know what it’s like to not have enough money, but I had a few extra dollars that day, and I wasn’t planning on doing much else with it. 

I pick flowers on the corner of my street to press in poetry books and hopefully find later. I love to pick wildflowers, there are so many varieties and types of wildflowers. I pay my respect to the bees; they’re doing God’s work and then some. 

I am human, or I at least try to act like one. Still, I feel as though I experience emotions far too deeply for anyone else to keep up. But maybe that’ll just be a secret between Lilith and me. I don’t think I’m entirely broken. Not very functional, but the form is intact. I am still here.