I came across this term ‘geographical undesirability‘ and it made me feel pretty darn gloomy for a whole moment. It reminded of that time when a superior at work told me that I shouldn’t think I am not expendable, simply because I turned in some work that wasn’t upto the expected mark. It reminds me of being ruthlessly compared to others as a child, and feeling like I could be deemed unlovable simply because of other people being way too similar to me in some ways, and better than me in some others. It reminded me of my wounded ego that reared its ugly head whenever I was told that I was like somebody else- somehow, the auto-algorithm in my heads adds that up to meaning that I am not unique. I have nothing to offer that is solely mine to give. I have no beauty that may not be found elsewhere. And I don’t have that loving quality that is essential in some way.
Perhaps I have the most fragile self-esteem when it comes to being replaceable, about not feeling exclusive, but here’s what makes it ironic – a few months ago, a dear friend told me that I don’t try and make people (who have my attention) feel special either. Call it a shallow definition of risk, but that kinda vulnerability requires all my courage and strength, and through careful study of world and the people that inhabit it, I have concluded (even if only temporarily) that I shouldn’t have to make that effort for everybody. That kinda connection is truly rare for me.
Which leads me to believe that I am an emotionally intense person. I am inclined, or stimulated in the least, to respond to the small things that catch my eye, that others miss. It pushes me to identify myself with the seemingly mundane in a personal way. While different people have their idiosyncratic ways of dealing with this sense of overwhelming-ness, I choose to either disassociate and put it in perspective among the larger scheme of things, or to isolate it to the extent of assuming randomness to be magic. Alas, neither amounts to the objectivity that my subconscious seems to seek.