My sense of self-worth is almost entirely based on my intellect. To continuously learn and accrue knowledge, and use that to benefit, advance, improve, develop, educate, and help earth and its inhabitants. Without intellect, I am worthless. Unfortunately, this is the path I’m on.
Sometimes, others perceive me as intelligent — which I beg to differ — and they are intimidated by it. On top of this, my behaviours, mannerisms, and expressions come across to them as arrogant and combative. Thus, they conclude that I’m someone menacing, someone formidable, someone with ironclad armour donned.
They jab, pierce, and stab, thinking that I remain unhurt from their attacks. They do not see the wounds. Squish. They do not notice the bleeding. Drip. They retaliate against perceived strikes from me. Twist. I stab myself too. Slosh. Old wounds reopen as they torment my mind over and over again. Splatter. They dig in. Slice. I puncture. Splash. I’m drowning in my own blood. Gurgle.
Like Scissorhands, who unintentionally cut those he came into contact with, including himself. Like King Kong, gunned down in retaliation. Like Boo Radley and The Phantom, recluses who tried to connect. Little me would add ‘Katie Gorilla’ and ‘Dianasauross’ to the list.
There’s no break. No relief. Until the ultimate plunge into the deep end.