I used to believe in everything. Monsters and fairies, eternal damnation and paradise, love and hate. It seems like I always gravitated toward the inbetweenness of life. Somewhere, I discovered that there are few comfortable living in the middle of the tension. I don't enjoy it much myself, but it seems like there's no where else for my mind and heart to live.

When I was small, I played a lot by myself. I must have preferred it that way, though I can't say I clearly remember. A memory invaded me tonight, of when the questions didn't hurt as much. Surrounded by the fence in our backyard, I danced around by myself--the movements were structured, even if it were just in my mind, and I was imagining auditioning for some role which would make me famous and fill the deep need I had to fit in. I sang, probably slightly off-pitch, Disney's mermaid's song of longing to be "where the people are" so I could "ask my questions and get some answers." I wanted to be a part of everyone else's world.

But life doesn't seem to work that way for me. I can't figure if it's me or others. Is my desire to risk everything on other people, risk being open and vulnerable and authentic, foolishness? Because it certainly feels like it. I know that it isn't about me, but sometimes I wonder if it is. If I could just be like the other people. If I could just find a way to acclimate without sacrificing who I am at my core...

In order to do that, I have to sacrifice my own voice--just like Ariel, the mermaid did. Somehow, despite that, her prince still seemed to fall in love with her. But I wonder. I wonder if he didn't just fall in love with a shadow of who she was...I wonder if they don't just love a shadow of who I am.

I'm being dramatic. Surely that's all there is to this, but I ache for that acceptance. I ache to be loved for who I am, not what I do. That's something that's common to all of us though, isn't it?