The Life Of A BeggarI can be seen in almost any moderately busy place. Usually, coffee shops, libraries, groceries, parks, and the like. If appropriate per the setting, I read a book. Well I should say, I "read" a book and peer around the room needlessly but with the intensity of a secret agent undercover. If I am in a more of a walking place, I pretend to be on a mission for the best valued peanut butter or to fake that I am on my 12th lap when in all reality, I have been park bench gazing. I drive around. There is never a drive where multiple cars pass me and the driver creeps a look into my window. And maybe that is why I drive slow and often.
I do a lot of loner activities, but in public. I try to trick myself and others. But I am in public because I want people to notice me. When they walk by, they see a tall and slender young man with a smile that would cause **** Clark to be jealous and long stride that would put to shame the fastest Kenyan runner. Whilst, peering at what seems to be a well put together guy, that guy is begging for attention, for affirmation. I don't even know what I expect of them, but this be for sure; I expect the world of them and they just give back a fake smile.
I walk past long time friends and just tear myself apart trying to will them to ask the question. "How are you Chris?" But when they do ask, usually out of social construct, I feel them as either insincere or incapable of the possessing the oceans of empathy needed to hear my life story. Why does 'how are you' mean. "are you breathing well?" to one person but to use it means, "What have you been pondering today? What are you feeling about yourself, what about me? Do you need to talk?" Words don't mean anything to me. It is the vastness behind the words, the subjective meaning that I see, and that is why I feel like I am a beggar. That is why when I say something in a socially normal manner, I hate myself for not cutting myself open so all can see.
But, then again. I have tried that. And people run at that point. So I will just beg behind my smile.
I don't know if this is anyone else. I have a strong hint that, while I am dramatic at times, you can relate to these situations. The worst part (I know the vast expansion of positives, but I am just focusing right now on this negative) of being an INFJ is that I yearn for people to understand me. And they don't. And that is my battle.