People 'close' to me began extending their sympathies to me but that only made me feel worse. Knowing that I am less capable is one thing, having others know is an entirely different issue. Sympathy is only comforting when it is sought after or otherwise wanted. In times when I do not want my failures to be acknowledged, broadcasting it in such a way only soured my mood further. Among the various people who either attempted to comfort me or openly looked down on me, Anson watched me curiously.
He is in many ways like me, only more accomplished. Anson is someone who does well irrespective of who is watching. Choosing to stay out of the limelight, he excels without a sound and without anyone knowing. Despite spending most of his time with relatively known people such as Klaus, popularity manages to evade him. Part of the reason is due to the superficiality of many, as he is not conventionally attractive. Not that he was unattractive, but when standing with his friends there was nothing that stood out. His was a face that one could spend hours analysing but would fail to bring up an image of the moment they closed their eyes. He was forgettable in that way, and this aspect extended to his entire social existence.
Anson's refusal to be acknowledged meant that he interacted little with people outside of his friend group. He lived solely within this small group and never attempted to branch out to anyone. Maybe reaching out even momentarily meant risking being seen by more people, and was outside of his comfort zone. Regardless, I admire that about him. I too wish I could disregard people's opinions of me and live comfortably with only those I determine to be trustworthy. There must be a lot of self-confidence that comes with being so independent but that is something I lack.
In stark contrast to Anson, I fear that I crave validation that comes from interacting with people. Whether this validation is sincere or not, holds no value to me. In both this life and the past, others' evaluation of me holds more weight than any self-evaluation. A change of body and circumstances cannot change what is rooted so deeply in my heart and soul. While my appearance and all else may change, I did not and that was something I had come to despise. From my need for reassurance to my fear of rejection, my existence felt tiring and pathetic.
Perhaps it was not that I chose to live in the way that others expected to 'match' who I was supposed to be, but rather that I was afraid of their rejection. It was simple enough to say that I acted according to their will because I myself did not wish to exert any energy into fighting it. But reality is always harsher than the way in which we perceive it. Part of who I am, who Max is, may be because I fear being myself as it is significantly more difficult to be rejected for who I truly am than who I am not. Hiding behind the idea that 'this is not really me' provides a sense of security and shields me from any potential criticism I could receive. In the same way that refusing to revise can be argued as the reason for failure rather than any mediocrity, being someone else saves me from fully accepting rejection.
In this way, while Anson is like me, he is someone I can never be.
Anson's profound ability to be unapologetically himself may be what drew in the likes of Klaus who is available yet distant. There is security in knowing that someone so honest with himself considers you worthy of sharing his private life with. I felt that through my similarity with him, I both knew everything about Anson and nothing at all. Never had we shared a conversation outside of tasks which forced such an interaction, nor had we willingly chosen to speak to one another. Yet, despite all of this, I was confident that I knew what he held at his core.
Not that any of that made a difference. Neither he, nor I, wished to entangle our lives with one another. Outside of his friendship with my newfound rival, our interests did not clash. Or rather, they clashed so much that there was no reason for us to engage. He was comfortable within his small group of friends, being who he always was, while I settled on having superficial relationships with anyone who claimed be close to me. Interests are one thing, it may be more accurate to say that our outlook on life did not align. He, an honest man, and I, a despicable sham.
That was always how I perceived our relationship to be. One that did not exist. Which is why his suddenly gaze burdens me. It is something I cannot understand. For what reason could a person like him begin paying attention to me, and was this a new form of pity that I had yet to come across? I prayed that was not the case. For someone like him to pity me meant that I had hit the bottom with no hope of climbing out of the hole which might as well mark my grave.
Although it did not appear to be a pitiful gaze, I could not fathom any other reason for this change to occur so soon after my aptitude test. I am not afraid to admit that his interest made me insecure in the way a child would be when receiving a disapproving look from their caregivers. It felt as though he was my ideal self, admonishing me for not having the courage he has. All of my internal conflicts were captured in his single gaze, making me more vulnerable than I had ever been or than I thought I could be.
Consciously avoiding his eyes, I tried to keep to myself and do anything to prevent interacting with him. But I cannot control the actions of others, and for that I curse the existence of others' autonomy.