Story Part XI: Emergence

I had never been so thoroughly embarrassed in my entire life. Although it might be reasonable to assume the primary source of my embarrassment was being caught writing a fake profile, in reality, it was actually my reaction to said capture. It's interesting--if someone mistakenly believes you are boring, you can persist and show them your adventurous side...if a person believes you to be meek, you may persist and show them your bold streak; however, if someone believes you are obsessive or desperate (and how could he not?), persistence will only bring into focus their nascent view of you--re-enforcing their initial beliefs. Had I really become a desperate neurotic mess? Was I really so in need of a relationship I was willing to thoroughly embarrass myself and chase after one who had rejected me so cooly? And finally, had I really become so fragile that a rejection could send me into such an unhealthy spiral?

Sadly, I had to answer yes. To all of it.

But that by no means implied I was destined to remain as such. The day after I broke the world's record for most emails sent within an hour to a single person, I attempted a new record: most tears cried within one hour without physical pain, death of a family member or exposure to onions. After my sobfest, with eyes still red and swollen, that dull aching post-weep headache begining to creep through my brain, I sat down to my computer and typed out a to-do list. The list was not filled with menial tasks, but rather goals to get my life in order--to get myself in order. First, I decided not to date for a year. As I've said earlier, when I was dating, I felt my dimensions were of less than full rank. I also wanted to ensure that my growth and reflection during this time were not teleologically inclined toward another individual's tastes.

It's odd, but I've never really tried to figure out what I like for myself. Even as a child, I was not encouraged to discover what I enjoyed. Rather, I was encouraged to be the best at everything. There were no punishments for coming in second place, it just never happened. And I was praised for succeeding--for being special, showing the most talent in art, music, academics.

How sad is was to find that I couldn't even tell when I was enjoying something or not! I only derived pleasure from activities if there was some feedback telling me that I was doing well, I was “winning.” There’s no one to do this with respect to what music I should listen to, which books I should read, which artists I should enjoy, which hobbies I should pursue. There’s no “winning.” So, I had been setting up false competitions—Look how close to your tastes I can come! Look, I can appreciate this! I can win!

So, along with discovering my own tastes on everything (at nearly thirty years old), I began to thoroughly investigate my world views, my relationship habits. A derivative of my inherently competitive nature was the way in which I had come to view people. It's as though I was walking around with a set of inequality signs--I hadn't really been aware of it earlier, but every person I encountered or even saw from a distance had been immediately branded with "better than me", "less than me" or "equal." Further, I realized that I had become quite fond of binary distinctions: intelligent, not intelligent; attractive, not attractive.

In a word, I had become shallow.

I also came to sense that my own judgemental behavior had worked to make me feel less secure. Surely if I carried inequality signs in my pocket, others were doing so as well...As harshly as you judge others you perceive yourself to be judged. And I had become absolutely Draconic.

Further, my obsessive nature led me to constantly replay conversations, reread emails in my head, relive painful events. My photographic memory was being wasted on memorizing trash.

So, I began to shhh myself whenever I began to mentally judge another person, think of Sebastain, or ruminate on some past event. I wanted to look forward...I needed to look forward.
I pursued an education in my preferences on music, literature, movies. I traded a few meals for a few paintbrushes, oils and a canvas. I embraced activities which seemed inefficient, irrational before, such as writing poems and inserting them into returned library books.

I became me.

*****

And then, about a year after Sebastian's visit, I wrote a few profiles of me, working my dream jobs in my dream cities...Sebastian found the bulk of them and 'winked' at each slightly fictional character. And every time he found one, I deleted the account.

Well, except that one...