Who knows what you will bring?
The drama. The surprises. The confrontations.
Like soap operas, but no one ever imagined himself so deceitful or sinister in real life. No one plots to have sex with her best friend's long lost husband after he returns from the dead with amnesia. No one does that.
But as it turns out, real life is just as outlandish in its details - the difference is, no one is plotting. They are just people. Living and making decisions the best they can, moment by moment. And the same messes ensue.
Do I want to hurt anyone? Nope. Do I hurt people? All the time. What is the way to not hurt people? As far as I can tell, there is no way to win this Kobayashi Maru. Someone will be unhappy about your choice on Monday, or next spring. And not just "someone" as in "someone in Kansas you don't know." Someone close. Someone you are trying to please. Please this one, displease that one by the same action. Not choosing anything will make someone unhappy. And everything you do contrary to your own nature is guaranteed to make you unhappy.
What to do, what to do? I care about people. I care about my mother. My family. My lover. My friends. My colleagues. How do I please them? They want different things. Can I be all things? Maybe some of the time? Maybe I can switch up really quickly between acts, separate them all so I can play all roles simultaneously? Maybe I can meet my own needs through this round of role-pleasings? After all, is there anything more fulfilling than making other people happy and never hurting anyone you love?
Turns out, my needs are not just another role I can play - they contradict with the essence of the whole plan. I need to have integrity, to match inside to outside, to be whole. Not a collection of horacruxes. This is hard to admit. It feels like a failure -- because, after all, I can do it. I'm good at pleasing and being pleasant and pulling on roles. Part of being myself is being a storyteller, a roleplayer. I am Every Woman. Polite. Ferocious. Vulgar. Sedate. I can do any role you give me. I am smart enough. Agile enough. Adept. I get it.
Except, I can only be Every Woman for about a year, and then I want to kill you all with lasers. Because FUCK THAT. Why do I have to be Every Woman? Why does Whitney have to be Every Woman? Why isn't being just one good enough?
Your words "We should both be able to be who we are. And that should be ok."
For particular black-ops missions, sure, subterfuge is fine. If it is beneficial to some plan that you make me a part of. Let me in to the strategy, and I'll do whatever is necessary. Charm in the service of the greater good, charm with my team behind me.
But I'm not so interested in charm as a tactic to keep everything surface-level between us.
If you want a liar, I'm not your girl. I want to tell you everything, all the time.
If you want a faker, I'm not your girl. My heart is on my sleeve. I can cry in secret, I can spin my rage into a clean house, and I'm trying to learn to not blast lovers with my Care Bear Stare because it usually knocks them unconscious. But I'm not going to smile when I'm angry. Inside matching outside. Inside-outside.
If you want a spy, someone who is comfortable in the shadows of vagueness and unknowns, I'm not your girl. The secrets I keep, I keep out of love, under very particular, clearly-defined circumstances. Negotiated agreements, not a default setting. If you are uncomfortable with questions, uncomfortable with spotlights, you are going to be uncomfortable with me, the storyteller, the sensemaker.
If you want a smiley face, someone who's never a hassle, I'm not your girl. I have a great smile. And I'm a hell of a good time. But I'm a person. And no one is happy all the time. No one is easy all the time. And when I'm in trouble I'm going to ask for help. I'd like to ask you. I'd like to be a priority.
I'm about intimacy. Intimacy is messy, and often a hassle. I accept the hassle, and the mess. I don't relish either. Soap operas are not fun to live inside. I'm not looking to hurt anyone. But since I inevitably will, I'd like to be close to the person I hurt inadvertently as I stumble through my life choices. Because I love that person. And I want to comfort my friend.