I’m always scared someone is playing the long con with me. It’s the strangest sort of paranoia that keeps me guarded. To soften the hurt to heart on my sleeve, I keep something up it.
I always debate putting up more private thoughts. Maybe because my face is attached like never before. Maybe it’s more of that avoidance. The fear if I give too much I won’t have any left for myself?
But that’s not the truth.
The truth is that I don’t think I deserve this. That I deserve any of what I have. If I get anything it has to come with a catch. It always does.
Doesn’t matter how hard I work, there is always a catch.
And it’s such a stupid way to live, yet here I am. I know better.
I don’t know if that’s stupid or brave to admit to an audience. But I refuse to isolate myself to the point of inaction.
This isn’t a plea for advice or a call for friendship. I have more love than I’ve ever have before. I can feel that. I’m just…waiting for the other shoe to drop.
That I’m going to be exposed as the fraud I am. Unworthy of love, not just because I have nothing to offer, but because I’m really not that good of a friend. I’m not extraordinary, I’m not even plain, I’m background. I get in the way.
And maybe getting these thoughts out of my head and into these pixels will help me deal with the dissociation I feel.
Stay good and keep transmitting.
-Aman Sandhu 2016