One Of My Journal Entries

There is so much wrong with me that I'm not going to start anywhere near the core of it all. This is an excerpt from my journal that I wrote tonight, with names and places removed.

I was reminded when watching the dancing of what a closeted idiot I am for not being able to dance these days. I used to when I was young, but as I got older I needed more alcohol in me to do it. When I went up to PLACE with my mother I danced with NAME at the wedding – though only after she'd persuaded me to come out onto the dance floor. I remember at my reunion with my school class I was a little drunk when I was dancing – I mixed karate moves into it, and someone said I was good a good dancer. After that I danced a few times in the PLACE disco, and in clubs in PLACE with friends from a course I did, but from then... nothing. NAME got me to dance at my mother's wedding for a bit. I danced with NAME at NAME 50th for a bit. At a concert, I was up and dancing until friends of mine, who were laughing at me to the side, tapped me on the shoulder. I immediately sat down and refused to dance after that. NAME tried to pull me back up, but I was typically stubborn and wouldn't. The evening was ruined. I was really enjoying myself dancing to the music, I felt really happy, but then NAME tapped me on the shoulder and it was ruined. I know NAME didn't mean anything – he immediately apologised – but it was ruined. When we were at the convention in PLACE, I agreed to go down to the party, and as soon as we went in I saw people dancing. I fobbed them off with some excuse about missing a key and went back to the room, pretending to sleep. It's my own thing. There's something wrong with me.

When I was young I thought people would laugh at me if I danced. I also, because I was young, thought dancing was stupid. We went to a disco once with all the cousins, and our parents were with us. NAME and I were laughing at them, but eventually even NAME went off dancing with them. I danced for a little bit, then stopped because I thought it was stupid. I remember my mother being angry with me for it. It's strange to me now how people can just get up onto the dance floor and make a fool of themselves with no care to who is watching. I can't do that. It's something within me that just removes any inclination to dance. I still do it, very rarely, when I'm on my own, but it's only a few seconds of it before the bubbly mood passes. I think there must be something wrong with me – my sisters and brothers, all my cousins, they all grew up normal. They can all go out on the dance floor and enjoy themselves. Not me. There's something wrong with me, something inside me that screws me up in this way. They all grew up normally, they'll all have wives and husbands and marriages and children. Not me. Stupid, inhibited awkward old me will forever be on the sidelines of all that.

I used to be confident when I was younger. Always the head of the pack. But somewhere in my teen years something went wrong. I didn't develop as the others developed. I'm forever closed. I let it out sometimes but I always reign it in instantly, always ashamed that people might get a bit of a glimpse of what is in me. NAME still talks to me – he's always been the easy-going guy. But through the years when we were in our teens, NAME stopped talking to me. At family get-togethers he wouldn't go near me unless we were sat at the same table. At NAME wedding, NAME came over to talk to me, and I had nothing to say, even though I still like the guy immensely. At the after party in the PLACE, NAME stayed up on the other end of the table and talked to NAME and NAME and NAME. Probably about sports and stuff. He talked to me once when I passed him in his car. We talked about the weather. Thrilling stuff. And I know why he stays away. All guys think I'm weird on sight. I worry sometimes that my mother is worrying about me because I'm missing out on life. And I am. But I can't help it. I'm never going to dance again. I'm always going to be alone.

There's something wrong with me.
1 Response Jun 21, 2012

I feel very similar.