options

...Options, I absolutely HATE options. I hate that you can go to a store and there's a hundred different paint swatches to sift threw, or fifty different brands of the same cereal. You go to the diner and there's a million different ways you can have your eggs cook, and even when your in the car you can drive ATLEAST two different ways to get to the same exact place. To " normal " people, options are incredible. It gives them a chance to try a bunch of new things. Although, to a runner, this is horrific. What do you mean I have the world at my finger tips? Your saying that I can choose something, and if it wasn't necessarily what I had anticipated I can simply discard of it, and choose something else instead?? Knowing this was a huge red flag especially as a small child. Out with the old and in with the new.We didn't have a lot growing up. Nothing we had really held any value. So when the couch acquired a burn mark the size of a grapefruit, eghh we'll get rid of it and trash pick a new one. Things changed constantly at our home. A new nic nac or another 1970's computer a friend of a friend of a friend gave to my mother. We didn't hang on to too much, it goes without saying. As the years drug on I made my own interpretation of what it meant to purge. If I had it, you were welcome to it. The shirt off my back SUREEE, I can always get another. This seemed like a very selfless quality, until I started to discard of human beings that is. I'm not positive at which point it was when I started associating love with objects instead of people. I'd have pebbles that I found that I'd love more then most of the people I knew. These rocks were rare...one of a kind. People were stereotypical. You meet one asshole...you've met them all i'm sad to say. I could thumb threw men the way people flip threw the pages of the sunday newspaper. I'd capture a glimpse of everything they were and then build myself an emotional wall as to only get as close as I could to the parts that I could run from, and then ignore all the rest. It's sickening to think about, but I loved these people. I just hated myself. I hated that I knew I was pretty, even though I never personally thought too much of myself. If you asked me i'd tell you I don't even know what it is that these people see. I hated that I needed to collect tiny pieces of them in order to feed my growing ego. Not ever considering the toll I was taking on the ones I loved more then anything in the world. It never occurred to me that the best way to love them was probably to give them those tiny pieces of ME in return. I need to always remind myself that those people love differently then I do, my heart was only able to feel in one direction. I could spill out every feeling that I had, but I could never accept them...I never learned how to be that vulnerable. As long as they were loved that made me feel like a super hero. Swooping down, and then slowly fading away...I'd let them suck me dry, but in those moments i'd never felt so whole. They needed me, and I needed that.