I don't expect to be understood EVER. I've spent two years making an interesting sort of peace with that realization. But it sometimes aches just a little in the empty void where that expectation used to be
I believe (secretly) that I am probably one of the weirdest people you are likely to run into. For years, I compulsively read SF and fantasy - mainly because I was looking for that species of aliens/faeries/elves or whatever who had somehow left me behind here on earth. Now I know different. We are all strangely beautiful beings full of our own magic and mysteries. I would not say, I have secrets... rather, I have become one... I play in this oddly flawed reality as I listen to the sands whispering through my hourglass. When they are all gone, I will wake up into the infinity that is my true home. Until then, I write, play guitar and create art.