3; sorting through the rubble and debris of a broken heart
Spurned on by my character's bitchy/blah mood, I have decided it's time that I address a few things. My therapist continues to tell me that hiding my thoughts and feelings is not a good thing- and I found it kind of funny that today I finally realized I've been using Tracey as a means of getting out my own experiences without actually saying that I did them. I also found it funny that while talking to Kelly about my character, she said that she can't read Tracey at all, and I heard the same thing said to me about me the other day.
I need to stop that. I'm sick of being the girl that pretends to be someone different for each person she comes across, so that she doesn't have to deal with confrontation or anything in that same general area.
Yes, I like to laugh, I like to joke around, but that is not me. Yes, I like to party, I like to drink, sometimes I try a smoke, but that is not me. Yes, I get very emo, I cry, I hurt, but that is not me. Yes, I have tried many things in my short life, and I take stupid risks for the thrill of a new experience, but that is not me. And yes, I am suicidal, I think horrible things about myself, and I am constantly second-guessing everything I say and do, but that is not me either.
So who am I? What is ME? Do I even know? I've spent so much time hiding within myself that I've managed to lose myself. I've been lost since Todd started touching me. Will I ever come back?
That's pretty damn creepy.
I am not happy with who I am, even if I don't know who I am. I know that am very self-conscious, I feel very alone, and I feel like everything is caving in on me a lot. I also know that I can laugh like no one else over the stupidest things, I know how to cheer people up, and I can be the life of the party when I'm not being shy. But you know... none of that shit really matters to me. I want to feel real. I want to feel alive. And after reading The Perks of Being a Wallflower, I want just ONE day where I feel infinite like he did.
I am not a runner any more- I haven't run in months, and my body is taking the fall because of that. I am not a writer- that's just something I do when bored. I am not a reader- that's something I do when I can find the time. I am not a party girl- that's just something I do everytime I try to drown out the world or lose it in a cloud of smoke. I am not a musician- that no longer is fun, I just do it to fill in my schedule during school.
I am however, a very good actress, which isn't a good thing. I can get on stage and pour my heart into my role, because that isn't me. That's someone else bearing their sould to the audience. I can pretend my way through everything I consider bad- I can pretend I'm ok with it, I can pretend I'm happy with it, and on very rare occasions I can pretend that everything sucks and I totally hate someone when I don't. Which is very weird. Very very weird.
I guess I don't know why I actually felt the need to post this. When I get into these rare moods where I am me in some strange way, I have to jump on it and write somewhere- even if it's on a napkin. It's all I have of the old Lexie. The girl who didn't give a damn what others thought. The girl who's face was always bright and she always had someone to say in reply to whoever she was with. Now 'm just a shell of that girl, and I'm not sure how to get out of the shell and build a new Lexie.
Isn't it weird what grief and loss and pain and hurt and trauma can do to a person? It completely rips you apart. It turns you into someone you never thought you would be. But you don't care for a while. Then, when you do care, it feels like it's way too late to swim back upstream and try again.
I once told Nick that I felt like I was swimming upstream while everyone was swimming down. Now I'm following along with he crowd, swimming closer and closer to my death without watching the things passing by. If I tried to swim against the current again, I would drown.
Hmm. I'm going to go and think some more. For now, this little piece of myself that I've caught will suffice.
Maybe one day I'll have all the pieces and I'll be able to put them back together.