please do not bully me

the fear that i live amongst wolves

I’m always aware that I’m an easy target if someone wanted to ruin my life. I’m susceptible to groupthink. I am extremely open so I disarm anyone who wants to get beneath my armor and stab me right in the heart. I am earnest in the hopes that someone will have mercy and not screw me over.

I would’ve wanted to be reincarnated as a Machiavellian, harsh, logic-driven man. I would want to protect myself from the immense fear that I cannot be left alone or I will be in danger. This goes for psychologically even more than physically — my reality feels malleable, easy to alter, mold like clay. This is why I spend a lot of time with people but try to make myself as internally alone as possible. I am afraid of being abused, taken advantage of, misled, left for dead.

My greatest fear is that I’ll wake up and I’ll find that my flesh has been picked off my bones, clean, and I am a skeleton of a person, fragile and exposed to the elements, and I’ll have no one to blame but myself for trusting people. I paranoidly think that, being so small and cute as I am, I am just destined to be a conduit for others to take out their frustrations. An existential punching bag to be objectified, used, defiled. Man or woman, doesn’t matter.

It’s hard to live in a world where I am constantly scared, because I also don’t have faith anyone has the capacity to soothe me. Sure, I have amazing friends now, but this is new for me. I’ve had to learn the hard way and realize a lot of people are less purehearted and innocent and honest than I am, which is to say I do not think these are flattering ideals of myself. Rather, I think ergonomically I’m just easier to screw over even if I am also strong and loveable and brave. At the end of the day, I’ve had to harden and learn to sleep with one eye open, and I am dismayed on the days my trauma makes it impossible not to lie awake quaking with the agony of those who’ve violated me over the years. My naivete was not looked upon favorably as a child; I disdain it now. I was frustrated I couldn’t learn to play strategy games early on in life, use any social conventions or rules to life that would work, and now I look specifically for what inside others makes them attracted to me.

Those who go, “there is good in the world, just believe!” are ironically also those who can see through schemes and parkour their way out when it’s time to turn off the Mr. Nice Guy. I fear if I’m nice, I will see it through until I die. If I’m mean, I can never go back.

If you purport to know me, to want to be close to me, I balk at the idea I am just a doll for you to use and abuse freely for your own perverse ideals of knowing someone, without taking responsibility for it. I bristle that you don’t know what you’re doing.

I am afraid I am always going to be an innocent lamb, being prepared for the slaughter by wolves unless I befriend bigger friendlier dogs who can ward them off.

Wish me luck.