“I love you, Anna Rose.”
Someone said that to me today, and memories flooded back to me. For years, people in theater or other places said this. Although the words were kind, something about that phrase always troubled me. Finally I realized. No one said that to other people. It was a way of stating, “You are different and strange. We are not sure what to do about you, but that is not exactly a bad thing.”
Love was something that set me apart from my peers. Everyone else went to haunted houses, but I was too sensitive to be invited. Others joked crudely with others before biting their tongues when I entered the room. Even some of my dearest friends still treat me differently.
I am loved but not always liked.
Some of this I blame on my Aspergers. Yes, I am a quirky person. My brain works differently than other people. Thus, my peers think my naivety and gullibility is cute while I am struggling to try to understand their confusing language. For example, sarcasm goes right over my head. This either annoys or amuses others. They don’t see the constant stream of thoughts whizzing through my brain as I attempt to decode their unclear statements.
Being loved is great, don’t get me wrong! In fact, most people claim they want love more than likability. But have they felt the kind of pitying, parental love that people seem to have for me? Sometimes I just want to fit in and be like others.
Other times, I want a new, romantic love. This always ends in disaster for me. When I think back to last January and December when a boy was treating me as if I was likable, my heart sinks. Once he realized who I really was, that affection faded quickly. That pain still festers inside of me, eating away at my joy.
Everywhere that I go, I hope for a new beginning. Yet even at my new job, people have begun to look at me with that smile. Maybe it is just in my head, but their look seems to communicate a kind of sentiment as if I am a child. Sometimes, I like that. There are many days, however, when I just want to be like them and have them view me as a peer.
All of that being said, I know much of this rant is “in my head.” Perhaps I am wrong about how people view me. There are friends who do like the woman that I am. However, even if I am reading the interactions of others wrong, that does not eliminate my feeling inadequate and excluded. Times like this make me wonder how I was meant for this world when I am such an alien to it.