All my life, I've felt like an outcast. I was never able to put a finger on *why*, but the sense of it couldn't have been clearer had it been branded on my forehead. I've struggled (mostly in vain) to make myself heard or understood, given up, sighed and fumed and raged at the perceived ineptitude and shallowness of the general population. They seemed always to be playing some sort of unspoken game that I couldn't see or figure out or read the rules to, yet was punished for failing at.... Now it all makes sense, total and complete sense (well, not the game- that will _never_ make sense to me).

As a child, I used to wonder at what people did...and I used to believe that it was my job to show them the error of their ways, of their stupid two faced social games and lack of forthrightness and honesty. I used to promise myself, that when I grew up, I'd remember what it was like to be a kid, and that I'd be true to myself, not like the adults that I puzzled over. As far as I was concerned, my mission in life was to offer my profound insights to the world at large, to teach them what was really important in life and to quit fretting over silly crap (ah, the idealism of childhood...).

But they throttled me, literally and otherwise. The happily curious and richly creative loner withered away into a brooding, withdrawn, and very confused and depressed 'dork' before I was through third grade. I kept hoping that I'd find someone who'd understand, that I could have a rapport with...really, truly...all I've ever really wanted is to have that rapport and bond with someone, just one person, and I'd be truly and deeply happy. I kept looking...and looking....and looking....and waiting, because I'm about as patient about waiting as a person could possibly be. I'd wait my entire life to spend just one year, or even a month, perhaps only a day of it with someone in that sort of a bond. Yes, I'd wait, and gladly...not begrudging a second of the time spent. Once, I thought I'd found such a person, and I was in seventh heaven for a few days, a few hours, until, until...he sort of vanished from my life. For years I tried to maintain the illusion that he had understood, that he had liked me as I really was...but finally I had to accept that he hadn't. If he had, he would have known me better than he did, he wouldn't have done certain things. He was a nice man, but he never really knew me.

In the bible, the word 'know' or 'knew' is used in a sexual context: "and Adam knew his wife Eve and they concieved a son, Abel." "Issac went into the tent and knew Rebekah and she became his wife". I don't believe in the bible anymore, but this use of the word moves me...sex and a relationship should involve really 'knowing' your lover. "And the girl was a virgin, no man had ever known her". My body is no longer virginal...but in a certain sense, I've never been 'known'. My soul has never been opened. And I'd give anything, anything, anything at all that was mine to give, to have that, but I'd sooner live and die alone than to ever settle for less again.

Anyway, long story short...whether there was actually anything wrong with me is debateable, but yes, I was and am defintely different: aspergia.com