“I wanna be saved”

But that demand, and especially demanding complete selflessness and commitment from the people I love to save me from myself, is, in a way, harmful and has lead to me resenting, holding grudges against, and hurting others. Them failing to fulfill the white knight role I expect of them in my mind—although not mutually exclusive—is an unfair expectation, especially if (1) I never clearly communicate my feelings or intentions or needs with them, and (2) they have no responsibility to fulfill my emotional needs.

I’ve realized the hard way that wanting to be saved, wanting others to help me, and only wanting it to be out of the absolute kindness of their own heart, hurts the people around me, even if it’s out of helplessness, desperation, and isolation on my end. I can feel like I’m lying in the middle of the road and I’m begging somebody to stop and help me, but in reality, it’s not a busy road, and I’m capable of pulling myself to the side of the road, and what I’m doing is waiting for fate to make a car drive down the road and lift me up.

I cried last night about my closest friends being people who find rudeness funny, whose sense of humor is being mean, and who poke fun at me like it’s second-nature. But that’s just who they are, and I can’t expect them to know that my history with bullying makes that nature difficult for me, nor can I expect them to change their nature for my sake, to be close to me.

I cried last night about not being considered until I do something wrong. But that idea of behavior and treatment isn’t a healthy one for either party—“people only care when I mess up” is not only self punishing but it places the blame on others when I’m completely responsible for how I act, and also how I feel about how others act.

I can’t ask anyone to take care of me. I can only take care of myself. It’s only okay to ask for help if the help isn’t them solving my problems for me. My problems are my responsibility, and bringing them to others is, too. If I need help, if I feel like I want to do something bad, it’s not fair to ask my friends to talk me off the ledge. That’s not communication.

Communication is describing my feelings and needs to my friends and making what I would like of them clear, and being open to their response, their feelings, their needs, and what they’d like of me. Communication is unambiguous statements, explanations, and ideas. Communication is being honest and not volatile during it.

I still feel like the little boy embarrassing himself every day in front of others and not knowing how to stop people from saying bad things about me, hating going to school because my friends and older kids would look at me distastefully and point out my more unappealing features, poke fun at my hair, tease me for my teeth and for things I’d said online. I still feel like that little boy who looks online and sees posts about romantic savior stories and watches shows and movies where the characters’ miscommunication is overcome by their attunement to each other’s true intentions, needs, and wants. I still feel like that little boy who finds comfort in stories of hopeless people being given a second chance, or even a first opportunity to be loved for all their complex flaws.

I still feel like the little boy that wants to be saved. I need to take care of that little boy. I need to realize myself and what I need, and what I’m responsible for when I become that little boy in front of others.

I wanna be saved, so it’s my responsibility to save myself.