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Had a bit of a revelation while talking to my mother earlier this afternoon.
We'd been to the bank and I was looking over my credit card bill, which contains the hotel cost from BotCon, and I was talking about the mysterious "800" written on the page I'd used to note my spendings in Cincinnati - I have no idea what it's supposed to represent, and all I can guess is it it's either supposed to be "8.00" or it's something completely unrelated to BotCon expenses. This prompted my mother to ask what happened to the extra Alternators Mirage that I took away and didn't bring back. Had I traded it? Sold it? Where did it go?
Told her I'd given him away, and she seemed surprised by that, and that eventually lead to a tangent about what I did at BotCon - I'd given both my parents a brief story, but never got around to much in the way of details. I had Finals all that week, my father had to work, and my mother was busy with other things, and then it had been too long and it was out of our minds.
While I was telling her about my weekend, I realized something that is kind of sad, both in general and in that I've not had enough cause to notice it before.
I don't know how to handle people being nice to me. Like, sincerely nice. Not falsely nice, or I-feel-obligated nice, but just ... actually nice to me. As if I am a person of any degree of worth. People were nice to me all weekend - people I'd never even met before. And that, that, of all things, made me feel awkward. I kept waiting for someone to stab me or something. What is this? Why are they being nice? I can deal with people being passive-aggressive or even overtly mean, but nice? It puts me off my balance point, and then I start worrying I'm being annoying and they're just better at faking niceness than other people.
... Thank you, classmates, for doing your best to break me. Breaking might have been easier, in retrospect. The fractures are more than enough. Thank you, teachers and school counselors, who never stepped in, even when I asked for help. Even after bullying was called to attention because of shootings. Thanks especially to those of you who aided in and encouraged it. Thank you, public schooling. I like continually finding more things wrong with myself, even all these years after I've finished with you. Thanks a lot.
We'd been to the bank and I was looking over my credit card bill, which contains the hotel cost from BotCon, and I was talking about the mysterious "800" written on the page I'd used to note my spendings in Cincinnati - I have no idea what it's supposed to represent, and all I can guess is it it's either supposed to be "8.00" or it's something completely unrelated to BotCon expenses. This prompted my mother to ask what happened to the extra Alternators Mirage that I took away and didn't bring back. Had I traded it? Sold it? Where did it go?
Told her I'd given him away, and she seemed surprised by that, and that eventually lead to a tangent about what I did at BotCon - I'd given both my parents a brief story, but never got around to much in the way of details. I had Finals all that week, my father had to work, and my mother was busy with other things, and then it had been too long and it was out of our minds.
While I was telling her about my weekend, I realized something that is kind of sad, both in general and in that I've not had enough cause to notice it before.
I don't know how to handle people being nice to me. Like, sincerely nice. Not falsely nice, or I-feel-obligated nice, but just ... actually nice to me. As if I am a person of any degree of worth. People were nice to me all weekend - people I'd never even met before. And that, that, of all things, made me feel awkward. I kept waiting for someone to stab me or something. What is this? Why are they being nice? I can deal with people being passive-aggressive or even overtly mean, but nice? It puts me off my balance point, and then I start worrying I'm being annoying and they're just better at faking niceness than other people.
... Thank you, classmates, for doing your best to break me. Breaking might have been easier, in retrospect. The fractures are more than enough. Thank you, teachers and school counselors, who never stepped in, even when I asked for help. Even after bullying was called to attention because of shootings. Thanks especially to those of you who aided in and encouraged it. Thank you, public schooling. I like continually finding more things wrong with myself, even all these years after I've finished with you. Thanks a lot.
