Cinema

 Car is fixed. 

Waiting to go pick it up.

Waiting to see what will happen later. Nothing, I assume. I have a way of getting my hopes up. I have a way of projecting my expectations onto other people and letting myself down when they don't live up to them. How could they? They have no idea what it is that I want. 

I tend to naturally lean toward a sort of cinematic structure of the world around me. You'll turn around, run back. You'll grand gesture. You'll know exactly what to say and when to say it, because that's the script and we follow the script. We follow the rules. 

But the world doesn't operate like that. People don't operate like that. We watch movies as escapism. Fantastical and perfect situations where everything goes according to plan, even when it doesn't. This isn't a movie, and none of you are characters in it. 

So why do I base my expectations in that way? I don't think I'm alone in it, I see others do it. But it does nothing but cause stress and pain for everyone involved. It's a habit I need to break. 

The other side of this is that I often find myself acting outwardly in a similar way. It probably goes back to my dissociative tendencies. My alienation. I don't feel at home here and I am not naturally like you. I have to take my cues from elsewhere. I have to study patterns and language and characters. Base my idea of romance on whatever my internal algorhythm decides is best, based on the input. Say the right thing. Do the right things. All at the right times. It's much easier in the beginnings of relationships, before I'm comfortable. When all of my focus is being what I think you want. When there's no room for me. That isn't to say that I don' mean or feel the things I say in those periods. Only that I have no idea how to naturally express them. What if my natural state repels you? What if I'm not a person to you? So keep to the script. The character. The film. But, when the ease rolls in, when I relax, when I am comfortable to show you who I am, it begins to fade. The character. The script. The film. My focus becomes a need to be loved for who I am.

But that's not the same person you've been seeing. 

It's jarring for people. Rightfully. Some handle it better than others, but it is jarring. I understand why those are the days when I feel less important to people. Well, I do now anyway. On one hand, I'm trying to expose myself to you and ask you to love me for whatever is behind the curtain. I feel closest to you and I am finally comfortable around you. I always think of this as a deep display of love. Actual love. But you already loved the person I had been and now you are looking at a stranger. Disappointing, as it's been called, is probably an understatement.

So why then, if I can recognize that I act cinematically, and how that operates, do I continue to hold people to that same cinematic standard? Both issues are from within me. As far as I can tell, both issues are entwined. Why would I forever hold a person to that impossible standard, if I can't even uphold it for a few months? 

Do I think I deserve more than them? Do I think I'm above them? 

Or is it protection from the pain of the inevitable collapse of these relationships? Or some kind of purity test? "If it's real love, then all of this will click."

I am trying to figure this out. Here I am writing about it. I don't know if I'll post this one, it's a little naked. Similar to so many left in my drafts. But I also think that maybe exposing this branch of destructive thoughts could help in rectifying it. Force me to break that branch off. 

I am actively pushing back those expectations as I type this. It isn't fair to anyone. It never has been.

A ridiculous and destructive standard that I hope to dissolve.