Untameable

I've become the kind of person that comes with a set of instructions and rules. Warnings whispered into the ears of those about to see me. I feel like an animal; "she's tame, we promise, just don't look her in the eyes." And then I snap and there's shock and apologies and reprimands and I'm locked away until I learn to behave. And that is no way to live.

Today is a "bad day". A seven on my scale of one to ten. I am asked this every morning and I must answer truthfully. The truth decides how everyone around me acts. It decides how I act too, I suppose.
My bad day means I'm generally left to do as I please. If avoiding me is impossible, I am approached the same way one would approach a lion. And by that I mean I can see in their wide eyes and their shaking hands that they're wondering how the fuck they managed to get themselves into a situation that requires approaching a lion. I pity them, so I don't bite. Much.
They pity me, too, I think. If I am a lion, they are nudging a piece of meat, dripping with blood, closer and closer to my mouth. They pity how I have to fight to survive. They'll risk injury to feed me.
We are an endless cycle of pity. Each of us thinking the other has it worse than ourselves.

The worst part is the strangers.
The fear in their eyes is unmistakeable. People like to think they're all different. Even more so, people like to think they're empathetic. But I am here to tell you you're wrong. You may have a different face, but it always says the same thing:
"You scare me.
You repel me.
You disgust me.
You make me feel so glad I am not like you.
You make me grateful.
You've given me a new perspective.
Thank you.
I feel sorry for you.
I feel so damn terrified."
They are glad when I am gone. But I, too, am glad when they are gone. Probably more than they are. There is no relief quite like this.

There is relief in good days, too. Anything under a four. I am let out of my cage. I am on an invisible leash. I can run free, as long as I watch my step. I wouldn't want to get tangled and fall.
They're not as cautious on good days. I almost feel normal. Not that I know what that is. I don't know if I've ever known. This is my normal. But they're not as cautious and I don't feel like biting so there is... not quite peace. It is a tense, fragile truce. A ceasefire. I didn't know I'm in a war.

So I have my good days and I have my bad and I see fear and pity and hope and I am an animal because you have made me one and I wonder if I was every really meant to be caged at all and maybe you are the animal with your judging eyes and guilty hearts.
I think a cage might do you good.
Step inside. It's warm in here.

Reach out and touch the beast.