I know myself better than I ever have…

The more I know myself, the more I know how unknowable I am.

I have existed within a liminal space my entire life, somewhere between what I know I am and how others see me. I have never been able to simply be, to simply live as Court would naturally subsist. It has always been some transfiguration of my authentic self into someone else’s vision of me. 

I sit in a crowded room, or in a loud restaurant and feel invisible. The people around me all know how to live. They know how to interact, find humor, and feel joy. I look at them, and admire. I am not jealous. I just wish I could human like them. 

Writing is the only place where I don’t have to pretend. I can throw it all out there, warts and all, and know that I put the real me into the world. Some people will love it, others won’t be able to get through it. That’s who I am. 

If I could be this brave in real life, I might not need therapy twice a week. 

I don’t know if writing makes me less of a stranger to anyone else. I just know it’s the only place I know I’m not divided. It’s the only place I show my real face, and have the courage to say “fuck it, this is what you get.”