I disregard the proportions, the measures, the tempo of the ordinary world. I refuse to live in the ordinary world as ordinary women. To enter ordinary relationships. I want ecstasy. I am a neurotic — in the sense that I live in my world. I will not adjust myself to the world. I am adjusted to myself.
There is a strong relationship between home and yearning. When you are young, you yearn to get away from home. As you age, you yearn to find home again. For some, this means a return to home. For others, it becomes a realization that such a return is impossible. You’ve changed too much, and home has changed too much as well. Even if you manage to return, it isn’t the same.
It’s one thing to know the university will never love you back, to make that knowing part of your politics, but it’s another thing to feel so unbearably unloved.
It’s triggering in a particular way. In a particular way I’m falling through these layers of institutions and people and places that never loved me, that found me unbearable.
In a particular way I’m sitting in class trying to make a point to a professor who is wondering whether or not I’m r*tarded but I’m also five years old begging my mother to love me.
It’s like, my grandma once told me on my birthday that everyone was sad when I was born and I have probably been desiring something that will never love me back, not fully, not in that gay way that I have only begun to learn to accept, since birth.
And it’s like, I don’t give a fuck about the university and I will always act on behalf of its destruction but as long as I am in it I will have to contend with how unloved I am made to feel, will have to rub up against all the times I was never loved enough. Even as I am held in so many other ways and loved in so many other places.