I find that scared and afraid have two different meanings. Scared is what you are when you see a drunken person heading right towards you. Afraid is what you are when you desperately fear something. Being scared happens to everybody, in everyday situations. Fear consumes you, it makes you irrational. I find that I am scared of many things, but I only fear one thing. I fear rejection. Not being accepted, being inadequate, not good enough. It may not seem handicapping; but unlike arachnophobia, I have to face this fear every time I leave the house, every time I converse with other people, even when I am playing with a puppy. Sometimes I wish I was one of those people who didn’t give a damn what other people thought. Those people are always so confident, so at ease with themselves that it doesn’t matter how they are perceived. It is because of this fear that I am always changing as a person. I am afraid that people won’t accept me for who I am, therefore I must be different. I long to be an individual, yet I wish to be a part of the crowd at the same time. I occasionally watch people while they go about their business, observing them and their habits. I understand that people like people who are interesting, different and fun to be around. So that’s what I try to be. Then I realise that’s not who I am. I realise that I might be making friends with people for all the wrong reasons. Maybe they are friends with somebody who doesn’t really exist. Subconsciously, I make myself unbearable, moody, angry, to see how they react. To see if they can really handle my inner self. But I realise that I’m not showing my inner self, not at all. The truth is, I don’t just fear not being accepted by others, I fear not being accepted by myself. So I tell myself all these lies and now even I don’t know what’s real anymore. All I am, inside, is a heap of confusion. With these conflicting emotions, I’m just glad the world still puts up with me.
Archive for June 3, 2008
Labels
Happy-go-lucky, emo, gothic, charming, Christian, tomboy, loser, nerd, jock, gangster, retard, loner, popular, social reject, dumb-ass, smart-ass, outgoing, shy, Western, Asian, class clown, lovesick, poser, high achiever, rebel, street kid, cutter, musical, try-hard, dork, snob, freak, punk, hardcore metal rocker, leader, artistic, drop-out ~~
I’ve been all of these, and more. Just a little bit of each; hoping to find a place to fit in, a place where I wouldn’t be discriminated against, a place where I was like everybody else. Maybe because it was too little, maybe because it wasn’t real, that I felt out of place in all these cliques. Maybe it’s because I’m none of these things. Maybe it was because there was too much, and not enough. Maybe my little bit of everything added up to a big fat nothing. Maybe it’s because I’m nothing at all except a high class faker.
Conflict
Looking around, people are generally good-natured, well-meaning and whole-hearted in their own way. Looking in the reflection, I see not just a person with a mean streak, but somebody with an underlayer of unpleasantness. Where others prosper, I fail. I see not the happy things, but the sad. This is the whole glass half empty perspective, but on top of that, I believe that the glass is spiked with illicit substances. When being spoken to, my mouth goes into submission, but my mind is somewhere else. My brain is poisoned with bad words and bad thoughts. Only when I start to believe I am changing, that I have been cleansed of my sins, that I hear something in my head that convinces me otherwise. It urges my limbs to flex and attack. It urges my mouth to utter hurtful words. It forces me to acknowledge things I’d otherwise not want to know about. There are times when the flaws of others don’t need to be exposed.
Twilight
In theory, it should be a good book. It’s based on all my favourite subjects: vampires, forbidden love, death, uncontrollable urges and the struggle to be different. The storyline reads quite well, and I must admit I thoroughly enjoyed it. However, there’s this niggling feeling that it’s all been done before… for anybody who’s read Bloodlust, you’ll know what I mean. The seductive clique with dark secrets, whose families go back a very long way, and the love between vampire and human. I don’t know who copied who, and I don’t really care. My main problem with the book was the love. Their desire and need to sacrifice everything for their love unsettles me. I understand feeling happy and warm inside, or maybe even missing them when they haven’t even been gone for a minute. But their willingness to die for one another, I find something too dramatic in that. It’s borderline obsessive. It makes me almost… uneasy…
