Questions About Visibility: “Fuck You. I Exist.”
It’s hard for me to be sexually intimate with someone when I’m wondering of they’re gonna make fun of me and punch me in the stomach until I can’t breathe and curl up on the ground in the fetal position. I have a problem trusting men.
It’s getting better. I’ve stopped running away and hiding. That was the defense mechanism. Total invisibility. No one can hurt you of they can’t see you, but then, if you are invisible, they can’t love you either. You get nothing. You get nothing but another day of life, years go by, until the day finally comes when you are sick of being quiet, sick of swallowing shit, and you are bold enuf to stand up and say: Fuck you. I exist.
Lately, I’ve been interested in the idea of visibility or what it means to be invisible in our society. The lengths we go to to be heard, to be seen and loved. The privilege of being seen. The reasons why we hide and the pain than can be caused when we reveal ourselves to the wrong person (or people).
For a number of years, I stopped living. I hid from people. Then I opened up and got dropped kicked in the face, but you know what, I think I’m learning from all that. At the very least, I’m not dead yet, so there’s still hope for tomorrow. I’m slowly realizing something without quite being able to put it into words. Something or other about re-enacting old familiar patterns that I learned from observation. Shit, I was afraid of that EXACT thing happening and it happened. The damage has been done. There’s nothing to be afraid of anymore. I know I can survive. It’s all very “Fuck you. I exist.”