Pain of Separation

I did it again Wednesday night.



Well, maybe I didn't actually do it, but I realized it. I realized that the door I thought was open was actually crystal clear bulletproof glass, that the room I thought I was in was cut off from me and I really wasn't a part of it at all.

It's kinda lonely.

I'm a mime trapped inside a box of air. I can't get out, and no matter how loudly I scream nobody can hear me. I may cry and pound that box with my fists, but though I'm a curiosity for awhile, eventually they lose interest and walk over to see the clowns, 'cause at least the clowns are funny.

You think I'd learn after 20 years. Almost everywhere I've ever thought I belonged, almost everywhere I thought people cared, has turned out to be a delusion sooner or later. The only two exceptions are Elyon's Circle and Explorers. It is my sincerest hope that the first never goes away, but the clock is ticking on the second and soon it will be just a memory.

It started when I was very small. I can't remember if it was Sunday School at 3, gymnastics at 4, or VBS at 5 where I first realized that no matter how desperately I wanted to and tried to belong, I didn't. I was an outsider. Up through the years; swimming, figure skating, hockey team, the semester of private school, drama club, church, college, martial arts, VMK... I invest myself somewhere and shortly after I breathe a sigh of relief-- "Okay... they accept me!" -- something happens and I crash down to earth to find I've been in my clear box all along, someone who's there but never noticed apart from the fact that I'm there. It's like a commercial, everyone is rushing all around except for the one person the shot is framing, who is walking alone in slow motion while the rest of the world passes him by at super speed.

What is it about me? I've got everything you'd think would make me very accepted. I've got a skinny waist, a decently-sized chest, cool shoes, cool glasses, and a pretty face (even if the acne still won't go away). I dress nicely, don't wear socks with sandals, and don't smell bad. TV would have us believe that those things are the recipe for success, but instead I'm invisible. Family and acquaintances ask me why I'm so quiet; it's because nobody will talk to me. There's something I can't figure out that turns people off to the real me. I can only put up a front for so long, but sooner or later the real me peeks through and before I know it, I've either lost what I had or found that I never had it in the first place.

All I really want is to belong.

I don't belong with the church crowd, because I'm messed up and I don't know my Bible. I don't belong with the teenagers, because I'm too old and too uncool. I don't belong with the people my age, because I've never had sex. I don't belong with the older generation, because I'm young and stupid.

Yes, I know. I've heard that song before, Where I Belong by MercyMe. I know I always have a place with God. He loves me, he'll never turn his back on me, he'll never let that box come between me and him. But once, just once, I'd like to belong somewhere here on earth.

In a few months, I'll be starting over somewhere new. I hope to have two of my friends by my side. Maybe the box will stay behind with my old life; I really hope it does. I'd love to mean something to somebody where I'm going, to be a part of something and not have to deal with the isolation, the finding out that what I thought I had was all in my head.

I've wondered why I'm so independent. Why did God give me that quality? Could it be that he knew I'd always be an outsider? That I'd always be alone, even in my family? That I'd need to be a loner to survive being lonely? It could very well be.

But it still hurts.