I’m on the edge between reality and insanity. Does the world really exist or have I made it all up?

I’ve always been on the edge — always. 

It's the edge between fear and fascination. I've always been so fascinated by other people, the way they think, talk, act, live — and so afraid that one day they'll find out I'm not like them, and laugh, or worse, leave.

I've never seen the world the way other people do. And somehow, I knew it even when I was really young. So all my life, I've been watching, observing, studying them to figure out how they see the world, so that I could blend in, and pretend I see what they see by saying and doing all the right things, maintaining just the tiniest shred of my own identity and perspective in it all.

I’ve always felt like an alien. 

And it wasn’t just because I was always the kid from another country. Because that feeling was even worse when I was back home in my own country. There, it was even harder to ignore that I was different, and if I expressed myself, people might look at me like I was an alien. Point at me, laugh at me, be scared of me, abandon me.

I've been terrified of being found out. 

So I've been hiding. I created an illusion around me that made them look at me in wonder, rather than fear. I've kept all my deepest thoughts to myself. I've kept all my ideas to myself. I’ve let my version of the world form in my head, and play like a silent movie in my own private screening room, which usually shows every night when everything is dark, and quiet, and the light in my room is as singular as the projector in a theatre.

I've never fit in. I never felt like I could act or think like everyone else did. I never even felt I could love the way everyone else did, because when I love, I love hard, and deep. And most people find that scary.

Once or twice in my life, I felt safe enough to share my world with someone, because he reassured me that he loved the way I saw the world. And even though I wanted nothing more than to believe him, in the end, he got tired of trying to convince me that he wasn’t going to leave, and he left.

Well, okay, I pushed him out, so I could be free of the fear of him leaving.

The fear that they will all leave me when they find out who I really am and how I really see the world has been so pervasive and consuming, that I've isolated myself in order to avoid facing it.

I live alone, hundreds of miles away from my family. I work alone, I work out alone, I travel alone. I sleep alone. Thank god, I don't drink alone. Yet.

I've created my own rock bottom so that I have nothing to lose anymore.

So that I can finally strip myself naked and run around screaming at the top of my lungs and no one will judge me. So that I can finally reveal my inner alien and not worry about losing anyone or anything — because I already got rid of them all.

I've been looking for a safe place, all my life, to finally be me. And that place is in my own company. 

When I'm alone, the edge between reality and insanity blurs. I can create anything I want. Without hesitation or fear. I'm not limited by the way the world and everyone in it insists on it being. I am free of their rules and restrictions that force me into a box I can't breathe in.

You see, I'm not like everyone else.

I don’t see the world the way it appears, I see it the way I believe it actually is — that’s why I’m an artist. I don’t see people the way they appear, I see through them to their core where their truth lives — that’s why I'm a coach. I don’t see how something looks, I see how it could look — that’s why I’m a creative director. 

And I myself am not what I appear, there’s a depth you can never see — that’s why I’m a writer. Because without my words, you only see the sharp, shiny edge of me. That edge between fear and fascination belongs to the sword that has defended me and carved my path for my entire life — and now, that same sharp edge has started cutting open the safe little package that I have packed myself into for all my life, so I could peek out at all of you without being really seen for who I am.

Guess what? I'm not big and scary, I'm actually small and cute. I'm not really loud and courageous, I'm scared and alone. I'm not strong or crazy, I just can't do life the way everyone else does. Because I'm just not cut out for it.

I cut away all the fat from my life with the sharp edge of my own heart, so I could bleed freely all over this page.

Because when the outside world falls away, then the real me emerges. 

Hello, it’s nice to meet you.

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