(no subject)

Feb 01, 2007 06:52

I'm trying so hard right now not to be a stupid girl. I'm trying to just live life and to not be jealous of people who have things that I'm not even sure I want. What do I want right now? That is the question in life that needs perpetual examination. I know what I want in the immediate future. Be less zitty. Loose five more pounds. Clean my room. Getting into the painting program for next fall is about as far ahead as I've planned. That and finding an apartment.

What I want is to not feel like the perpetual loner and 3rd wheel. As soon as I start to finally feel comfortable with in a group dynamic, something will shift and I will feel displaced again. I don't know where I belong, what the boundaries are, or how to behave. I once again retreat into myself as a source of certainty. I am not necessarily safe, but I am consistent and have managed to land on my feet thus far. When I get scared I find I am the only person I can turn to. Especially when everyone in my life is in the midst of having the most wonderful new girlfriend or spending hours on the phone with that guy from that class. Because it reminds me that I don't have that other person and in the stupidest, silliest, most superficial girl way possible, I want a boy to like me because then I will know that I am a desirable human being and not the leper that I perceive myself to be. And I have been sleeping in my twin bed long enough for it to feel vastly empty with just me. I used to enjoy how spacious the queen in my parents house was. Now my bottom bunk feels lonely with just me in it. Everyone will reassure me that I am worthwhile, but until someone can single me out and make me feel truly special, then I am just another confused art student with an illegible life scribbled into her sketch book.

I picked up a book that just happened to catch my eye when I was in Barnes and Noble yesterday. I'm all ready through the first 2 chapters. It's called Prozac Nation. Go read it. It explains depressed people so beautifully. We don't feel sad all the time. Instead it's this nagging emptiness where one doesn't really know where he is going or how far or where it will end. What he does know is that he is alone, and that no else can possible get it or understand it or even begin to empathize with unless they've experienced it. The desperate need to control something, the simultaneous cry for attention and desire to just disappear, the tension when they walk in the room because no one wants to set them off. Most importantly, the soul shaking quest to figure out "why me? what did I do differently?" and "why on earth can I not be normal for just one day?" Only then you spend 9 months in therapy to realize that no one is normal and that you are chasing a culturally created ghost. So then the questions circle around, "why can't I just get over it?"

Why can't I just get over me?
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