because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and youâre just supposed to ⌠know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought youâd been doing the right thing. sheâd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.
you arenât supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you donât, but then youâre too serious. youâre not supposed to be too loud, but then people say youâre too quiet. you arenât supposed to get passionate about things, but then youâre shy, boring. you arenât supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when youâre not good at replying.
you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is âselfishâ and what is âcharity,â you give yourself over, fully. youâd rather be empty and over-generous - youâd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that youâre mean. since you donât know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit whatâs happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.
donât fuck up. theyâre all testing you, always. theyâre tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didnât get to attend - everyone else just⌠figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, youâve been playing catch-up. youâve been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke theyâre telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, youâve totally read it.
if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.
you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how youâre doing, and you automatically say iâm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:
how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like youâre piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is⌠just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, youâre cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. itâs working!
