I was thinking today: it seems that an audience is not what I want or need. Removed, out there, faceless, watching. Disengaged. Examining me like an object, a curiosity. Expecting to be passive. I think, at least for now, I don’t want to set myself up as a performer. The words “attention whore” come to mind—I don’t think it’s wrong to need some attention, but some kinds seem preferable to others, “others” being “stuff that makes me feel like a consumable object, a commodity, a depersonalized achievement machine.” Have I been an attention whore? Probably.
I need people in my life who want to engage with me. I need people who feel some resonance with my ideas and sentiments, and respond. It doesn’t mean that anyone will automatically show up with any consistency just because I say “I need this,” but it seems important to legitimize it to myself. I need people who want the same thing.
I would like to recognize the people who have spoken and written with me of late. You make me feel like a human. It means everything to me that you took the time to write an email, or a comment, or talked to me on the phone, or visited with me, or made plans with me and Lily. Please don’t stop. I’ll keep doing my best not to stop, either. Thank you for seeing me. Thank you for letting me see you. There are long gaps of loneliness in between points of connection and it’s easy for me to lose track of where we are—I start believing I’m more alone than I am in actuality. I try to re-read your words and recall spoken phrases that are especially consoling, and/or especially real.