i'd rip my heart out of my chest and attach it to my sleeve if i thought you'd think differentlyofme
i went to muk's pub tonight to celebrate an old friend's 21st birthday. of course i saw half of tecumseh there, like a high school reunion. i saw one person who i had always been kind to, despite our rivalry and his extreme stupidity. i happened to be drinking my one and only alcoholic drink of the night, and he told me he was surprised i was actually drinking alcohol, that he never in his wildest dreams would have pictured me drinking alcohol.
what he said got me thinking about all the pressure and especially all the pain i've withheld because of my image as this perfect saint in academics and society. being seen as perfect didn't really start to bother me until around my junior year of high school. it became too much for me to deal with the stress and pressure of activity commitment and social morality - the differences between what i believed to be moral and what society deemed as moral. after high school, i didn't want to go through the pain of perfection anymore, and i tried SO hard to shed that image when i went off to college. i later learned of social gatherings and inside jokes my high school friends had left me out of because they thought i was too innocent or that i would tell my parents. that just gave me further incentive to change who i was when i started college.
so i did it. i changed who i was. not completely, because despite everything i still held onto my hopes and dreams for my future- but just enough so that i could be a social chameleon when i wanted to. and yet somehow my image still followed me, albeit to a lesser degree than in high school - but even that lesser degree made my efforts to change myself worthwhile in my opinion.
then, after my sophomore year in college, something big happened - something bad - and it made me realize how tired i was of not being myself. i somehow managed the strength to find my old self again, but i still feel like i'm constantly torn in two when i'm around people my age, and especially old friends. there's a part of me that wants to shout, "screw you! i am who i am!"...but there's still another part that's crying desperately, "i just want to fit in!!". the side of me that wants to fit in is dying to list off all of the bad things i've done, and all of the nightmares the pressure has caused, so then maybe, MAYBE people will understand and stop treating me like i'm above everyone else. but i know if i do that, if i list everything, i would be not only giving up the good image of myself, but costing my family its good image as well. or maybe my list wouldn't even be long enough or "bad" enough to grant me what i so desire. ugh, this inner conflict is why i wish so badly to scream out to everyone, "YOU THINK YOU KNOW ME, BUT YOU DON'T AT ALL!".
this is also why i enjoy being alone. i've always loved it. even when i was little, i would make up excuses like "i have too much homework today" so that the neighbor kids would leave me alone and i could make barbie wear the purple dress instead of the pink one. now that i'm 22 years old, i know that when i'm alone, there's no pressure to be perfect or to do this or that. i can be me, and i am free to fly anywhere i choose - although it still hurts when someone, like my stupid-friend-rival, brings up the past. as rafiki from the lion king says, "yes, the past can hurt." alas, rafiki, i am a bird with scars.
what he said got me thinking about all the pressure and especially all the pain i've withheld because of my image as this perfect saint in academics and society. being seen as perfect didn't really start to bother me until around my junior year of high school. it became too much for me to deal with the stress and pressure of activity commitment and social morality - the differences between what i believed to be moral and what society deemed as moral. after high school, i didn't want to go through the pain of perfection anymore, and i tried SO hard to shed that image when i went off to college. i later learned of social gatherings and inside jokes my high school friends had left me out of because they thought i was too innocent or that i would tell my parents. that just gave me further incentive to change who i was when i started college.
so i did it. i changed who i was. not completely, because despite everything i still held onto my hopes and dreams for my future- but just enough so that i could be a social chameleon when i wanted to. and yet somehow my image still followed me, albeit to a lesser degree than in high school - but even that lesser degree made my efforts to change myself worthwhile in my opinion.
then, after my sophomore year in college, something big happened - something bad - and it made me realize how tired i was of not being myself. i somehow managed the strength to find my old self again, but i still feel like i'm constantly torn in two when i'm around people my age, and especially old friends. there's a part of me that wants to shout, "screw you! i am who i am!"...but there's still another part that's crying desperately, "i just want to fit in!!". the side of me that wants to fit in is dying to list off all of the bad things i've done, and all of the nightmares the pressure has caused, so then maybe, MAYBE people will understand and stop treating me like i'm above everyone else. but i know if i do that, if i list everything, i would be not only giving up the good image of myself, but costing my family its good image as well. or maybe my list wouldn't even be long enough or "bad" enough to grant me what i so desire. ugh, this inner conflict is why i wish so badly to scream out to everyone, "YOU THINK YOU KNOW ME, BUT YOU DON'T AT ALL!".
this is also why i enjoy being alone. i've always loved it. even when i was little, i would make up excuses like "i have too much homework today" so that the neighbor kids would leave me alone and i could make barbie wear the purple dress instead of the pink one. now that i'm 22 years old, i know that when i'm alone, there's no pressure to be perfect or to do this or that. i can be me, and i am free to fly anywhere i choose - although it still hurts when someone, like my stupid-friend-rival, brings up the past. as rafiki from the lion king says, "yes, the past can hurt." alas, rafiki, i am a bird with scars.