Letters From an Anonymous Reality

Letter 10

Dear Kitty,

Oh, where do I even start? I need you so much. I just need you. That's all there is to it. 

Panda managed to bring up all of my worst triggers in only fifteen minutes. First of all, he made it clear that he understands I don't like to be touched or hug but will still continue to touch and hug me. I couldn't say anything. I just sat there thinking about how when he touches me I feel like I'm going to have a panic attack, or I just have a panic attack. Of course, he doesn't know that because he only sees what he wants. Then he asked yet again why I don't want to drive, and he asked in the most vicious and accusatory way possible. And of course I said nothing. I couldn't very well say it gives me a panic attack. No, he doesn't know any of that, and I hope he never does. So I stayed quiet. Just like always. 

Piggy has started catching on to the clear signs I show of significant mental health issues, but she claims they're phases. She laughs at them. She said to me quite confidently, "I bet when you're in your twenties, you're gonna look back and say 'I was so weird.'" She said it in a way that made it sound like I'm going to hate myself, as though I don't already. She said it like after all these years of everything getting worse it can still be called a phase. It's not a phase. Not at all. But I was silent. Again. 

Panda got annoyed with me because he seems to be under the illusion that I care about everyone. I do not. I care about very few people. He thinks I should care about more people, which is ironic considering he's on the list of people I should probably care more about. He said that someday I'm going to realize that there are very few people who will ever love me. I said nothing. What could I say? That I don't believe that anyone loves me, that anyone is even capable of loving me? That I don't think I deserve love? That I don't want people to love me? That love makes me feel guilty? No, of course, I couldn't say that to him. But you know, it's just so helpful to be reminded that I'm unloved. I just love that. Wouldn't you? Wouldn't that just make your day? Yeah, didn't think so. 

So let's see what we have so far. I'm failing at life and will fail even worse as I get older because I'm incredibly afraid of people and cars. Great. I should hate myself because I'm choosing to be weird. Yay. I love that it's a choice. Wish someone had told me sooner, so I could stop. Ugh. The ignorance. And on top of that, I need to remember that nobody cares about me. Because apparently, I believe everyone loves me. Apparently. 

Piggy made me take some test to see which of the five love languages I relate to or feel or whatever. The problem is I had to lie on it a bunch because it didn't allow me to skip questions. But here's the thing: I don't like people to show me love. At least that's what all the information would suggest. 

I don't like constant affirmation. I need affirmation a lot sometimes, but I ask for it. Otherwise, I feel like I'm being suffocated. I don't want constant notes and texts reminding me how loved I am. Sometimes I need reminders, but I will ask for them. Sometimes I'm saying I hate myself, and then I need affirmation, but that's not constant all the time reminders. I don't need someone telling me every five seconds that I am loved. I enjoy quality time, but I'm socially anxious, and I'm an introvert. Not only will I probably be freaking out the whole time we're together, but I will also be dangerously exhausted by the time it's over. That's not to say I don't enjoy quality time. It's just hard. And I have to care about the person I'm with. I don't like gifts because then I have to accept them appropriately. And I do like some gifts. Little things that remind me I'm not alone and give me a reason to want to stay alive. But I don't want someone who constantly gives me worthless pieces of crap. Then it loses meaning, and I feel undeserving and cheap. I don't like people to do things for me because that makes me feel uncomfortable and indebted. It makes me incredibly uncomfortable. I can't stand being touched. It makes me want to claw off all my skin or burn myself to ash. It gives me panic attacks. Occasionally, I may want a hug, but I will ask. Otherwise, I hate being touched. People who touch me typically hate me and know nothing about me. 

I want to be loved by just being in someone's presence. I want people to know what I need to help me and make me feel sane and safe. I need someone who will let me say what I need without making me feel stupid and weird about it. I need someone who can affirm me when I need them to, when I hate myself, when my paranoia says they hate me. I need someone who will spend time with me but will understand how hard it can be for me. I need to feel their presence but feel their distance too, and I need them to be ok with that. I need someone who only gives gifts because they saw something so perfect they had to give it to me, not because they just want to give me something. I don't need gifts. I need someone who knows not to touch me and can respect that. I need someone who will hug me if I ask them to but won't hug me without permission. I need someone who will accept my crazy and love me in spite of it. 

But of course, Piggy gave me crap about whatever. I can't explain all that to her. I can't. Besides, she doesn't care. No one cares. No one at all. 

Who could care? You're not here. Furry's not here. No one is here. No one cares. I am alone. I need you. I don't have you. There is no one. 

Please confirm that you are alive. I need you to get back from your trip. I need you to be ok. I need you. I've been terrified this whole time, and my paranoia is on fire. Worst-case scenario after worst-case scenario after worst-case scenario and so on. Please confirm that you are alive. Please confirm that you are alive. Please confirm that you are alive. 

-An Anxious (and Triggered) Mess