“No one wants you around.”
“It’s a chore to spend time with you”.
“Just go away. It would be better if you just went away”.
And so they continue. These thoughts. Pushing their way into whatever I happen to be doing. They tell me I’m a waste of space and a nuisance. That everyone else is happily moving on with their lives, and I’m stuck in a rut, going nowhere, because I’m good-for-nothing. They say that I barge my way into people’s diaries when they’d really rather I wouldn’t, that they see me under duress, and that I should understand that I’m simply not good company. And go away.
Until I scream back: You go away. It’s not true, it’s not true, it’s not true.
I’m trying to convince myself. And I know there is evidence that a few people do want to spend time with me. So I berate myself for seeking reassurance, “you do want me there, don’t you?” Self-centred cow. Why ask, when you’ve been reassured before? Your focus should be on others, not you.
But the other evidence, evidence that people don’t want me around looms large. I teeter, tremble, on the edge of conversations, looking for a way in, worrying I’m saying nothing, wondering if people want me to say anything at all. If I should be there at all. The evidence haunts me. It haunts me, and I don’t feel like people want me there. Why would they want me there? I worry that I’m rubbish: that they don’t want to be with me at all.