The Girl Called Rachel

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I have realized exactly how much I shield myself from any exposure at all. Nobody knows the majority of things I think about, worry about, love, hate.

It’s not an exaggeration that apart from work, I could go entire days without talking to anyone, even longer could I remain silent about anything of substance. And at work, little can be said about my communication with the teachers, the lack of which led to the notification that I wasn’t invited to go out on Friday night when “everyone else was there…”. Uh, ok, thanks for telling me?

This past week I did literally spend silently, due to a swift and inexplicable case of laryngitis. It was in these days that I felt myself really wanting to talk to someone and connect in a way that I usually find so frightening and uncomfortable. Now that I can physically speak again I’m even more frustrated than being mute, because I feel like all of the potential talking I am able to do is too intimidating. I felt vulnerable when I couldn’t speak. Now I feel vulnerable about saying anything I unearthed when all I could do was think and fantasize about what amazing things would happen if I really allowed myself to be seen and heard by someone who isn’t my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

I feel heartsick and I can’t tell anyone about it.

And it really feels good when you listen to three seven year old boys (not really) whispering about how you are fat and disgusting while you are sitting four feet away from them and staring into their fucking eyes. It’s the first time in 23 years I have ever been made fun of to my face, and I have to say it broke my heart a little today.

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