We are not allowed

We are not allowed Complicated.

It’s no news. Greys deserve to be in the shadows and will always remain condemned to them.

The type A’s and B’s, all the boxes created to sort us are simply judgements. Imposed ideas of what we appear to be. All the while, we are projecting our own personality to the world and cooking up life stories to feed it. We do it so well, we forget we’re doing it.

But sometimes we are reminded.

A searing gash left by a lightning of realisation. The lightning emanates from a phenomenon we cannot ignore and cannot escape because we know it so intimately.

Someone else struggling to keep up the pretense.

The only real boxes that matter are the one we put ourselves in. I put myself in two, and that too not too well, some parts just hang somewhere in the middle till I have a name for them. These are the dangerous ones. The ones that can wreak havoc because you left them out only because you didn’t know what box they went in.

And there are thousands of boxes because in my heart I deal with everything, and each experience is unique.

Welcome to my head, and let’s begin by me telling you what boxes I put you in. I speak for all of us misfits: confused and eternally longing for something we don’t even know.

Why are we drawn to such dilemmas? What makes us who we are?

To begin with, we are loners. Not because we hate people, but love them. Confusing?

We long to be understood, but there is a flaw. The people who understand us emotionally, and ones who understand us intellectually are, most of the time, different people.

We are loners. Not social loners, but intellectual loners. We differ in who they connect to in social and emotional spheres, and by intellectual I don't mean brainy. Just life logic. The way we see the world when haven’t put on those rose-tinted glasses of “normal”.

Very rarely, this can be the same person. But these pairs are like unicorns. I am yet to see one.

The overlap of the spheres is twisted. You can't live with the people you otherwise connect to, them being random people you met at random places but became thick as thieves in a matter of minutes, and you can't live without the people you are already with-your emotional partners, the loves of your life, the ones you chose and who chose you back.

This is most noticeable  when both the types of people are in the same room.

You long to chat for hours with your fellow intellectual loner, to finally connect, after ages, at a level others do not even know exists, but your partner expects your full attention, and the behaviour they are used to. They know you, but it’s only a part. It’s the real, honest-to-God-real you, but it’s not the whole.

So to suddenly see that other side of you, where your eyes light up and you’re grinning ear to ear, and talking about things they did not know you even liked… that can be difficult. For you to hide and them to see.

You can try to reason with them, if ever that conversation happens-that all you see in that person are shared interests. It’s bad enough that you have to negotiate your time with these friends, but God forbid they happen to be the opposite sex. That’s a different ball game altogether.

Add being happy high in the mix. You are in for the gamble of a lifetime.

Nothing, I mean nothing, can convince them that you were “too close for comfort” with said friend. Meanwhile you, on the other hand, have no interest in the colour of their pants let alone being in them.

In your head, you are torn. If it were to be interpreted as black and white: give up on life logic connections, or forever live under the suspicion of people you love.

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