No One Gets Me

‘Everybody has you over for dinner
But no-one really stays in touch.
Everyone knows that less is more
But we all want it too much.’

Magne F-No one Gets Me But U

I always instigate a plan to ensure that I am the last to arrive and the first to leave, that way I appear sociable but on my terms. I don’t particularly enjoy social gatherings-something they are yet to comprehend, let alone accept. If I dain to respectfully decline their presumptuous invitations I spend days fielding phonecalls from them, insisting that the evening will not be the same without me. I don’t really see how that can be. Usually I arrive amidst much whooping and hugging and then I spend the remainder of the evening negotiating polite chit-chat and contemplating the nearest escape route.

Once I am physically there it’s as if they feel that their involvement is complete and they stop trying quite as hard-basically they feel comfortable about ignoring me as I’m hardly going to attempt to bring everything to a standstill while in their company. I feel like the difficult child the adults are no longer sure how to communicate with but feel that they have a responsibility to include. I doubt that any of them have a real understanding of who I am and what I’m about. Don’t get me wrong, I know that I have a part to play in this-I know my lines and how to follow my stage directions.

As an observer I know more than I would like to. Their little tells narrate their reality rather than the elaborate story they have woven to veil their secrets. Nobody in this room is really who they pretend to be-why can’t they be more honest with themselves and each other? I’m honest with both. Well, I try to be. Although if I was truly honest I would not attend these gatherings at all. I compromise myself to keep them happy. Why do I do that? For an easy life-two hours of this keeps them off my back for another month. Tonight I have another 30 minutes to endure and then I will navigate the room making my apologies and saying my farewells. I’ll hear myself stating ‘we must do this again soon’ and I’ll tell them how wonderful it is that we are all still able to meet up like this.

I think that I’m addicted to the feeling of freedom I experience once I have extricated myself from their clutches. Closing the door behind me I will take a deep breath and set off running along the middle of the road-I will soar as I fly home with a pocketful of pretzels.

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Amanda Bird

Amanda Bird

Amanda has always thought of herself as an armchair traveller, and since early childhood books and stories have provided the portal to other worlds. Her love of reading sparked a passion for writing and she has been writing stories since... a very long time ago! She now lives in Hove, and the view allows space for her imagination to roam.
Amanda Bird

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