These are the days when I am reminded how different I am. I hate being reminded. Sure, I can dance like them, laugh like them, play the same games as they do, but I am not them. As much as I try I am not them. It is always this way…I wish it wasn’t. This is when I miss the sound of piano keys in dark rooms, the relief from brush strokes on canvases, the smell of fresh jasmine in the backyard while stealing a few moments on the phone, and the feel of the poetry I don’t dare write. Like all the crumpled old paper I have lost track of, gave up my right to so many years ago.

This is part of the pain I have buried. I have gotten used to just leaving it underground.

I never want to let my partner feel this pain. If ever there was someone who deserved only happiness, only good thoughts, and acceptance, it’s him. I want to do this for him, I want to listen, I want to surprise, I want to give comfort in the form of his favorite foods, hugs, kisses, and smiles of hopeful encouragement. He deserves this.

It is a weak day when he catches a glimpse of what has been buried. This is when I have no excuse because I am different. This is when he cannot understand this difference…cannot comprehend why or how or even believe…the unknown is always frightening to those who cannot understand it. People react to it in different ways, some deny its existence, rejecting it entirely, some become frightened refusing to even think about it, and some, as my partner, react in anger. Is it so impossible that a stranger can live in a strange land and keep her strangeness in tact?

When there is anger, it seems people latch onto one aspect of the situation and form a straight conclusion, something that makes sense in their mind, something they can understand, and they run with it. They run with this notion straight into a sea of red, they get fired up because anything is better than thinking of the possibility that someone so different could exist when they have only known the opposite their whole life. No it can’t be true, it has to be something else, it has to be something meant to harm or else why would it be so different? If it can’t fit into the mold of others it is obviously broken, warped, defective.

I cannot say what I want to say because it won’t be heard. I let it happen, I let the emotions fly out uncapped, and I watch with a few tears. I take it, and I remember in my heart…what I know is true…I remember….a time and a place when being different wasn’t so different. But my different then and my different now were very conflicting, the me then did not deserve the me of now. There is nothing I can do about this.

With someone so set in their ways, it is hard to explain yourself, hard to open up a mind like this. I will not judge, will not impose, so I keep my mouth shut, and maybe it is unfair, but sometimes you have to make your point with actions rather than words. So I will only love, I will love because I know what it’s like to lose so much. You have to appreciate the little things, because the little things don’t always happen. I wish I had learned this much earlier in life…but if I had I would not have come this far.