(no subject)
I’ve always pictured my life as a fairytale. As if I was the heroine in some fantastical story about love, passion and self-acceptance. I realize I’m about as average as a girl can get, yet somehow, after seeing a movie or reading a book, I find myself trapped in the same fantasies I grew up with. I picture myself with strange powers, like premonition, or the ability to control things with my mind. And sometimes I’ll daydream about having someone who loved me unconditionally. And thought I was perfect. I know I’m not perfect, and I don’t strive to be perfect, I might even go as far to say that I like my flaws. But still that twinge of fantasy remains, hoping that someday someone will think I’m flawless.
Then I remember how agonizingly ordinary I am. Not to say I’m bland or that I wont amount to anything, but I guess it’s selfish to say I want more than what seems to be in store for me. I want to change something, or someone. I want to make a difference, an ability that I do not believe I have. Normalcy is not something that comes to mind when I think about how my life will turn out. But who wants to be normal? Of course everyone, at least at some point, desires to fit in. For some reason, over the past four years, I have realized that I can’t do that. I have been told on multiple occasions that there is something about me that attracts people. And I suppose that I can communicate with people fairly easily. But it upsets me when I think of myself as the listener. Oftentimes I have friends (and even acquaintances) come to me with problems, seeking advice. I don’t mind helping, but I have realized that not many of those people are willing to help me when I need to talk.
Maybe I’m being cryptic. Maybe I don’t realize that when I need someone I wait for somebody who wants to listen, rather than ask a friend to help. It just seems like no matter how close I am with someone, they never “get me” completely. Different people see different sides of me. It’s like a giant puzzle that, if pieced together correctly, will show all of me. My true colors. I doubt that any of my closest friends even realize I think about this.
I wish I could find one person who understands me completely. Someone who I could literally tell anything without them developing a negative opinion of me. But I suppose everyone is like this. Everyone must keep some things from others. I guess it’s in human nature to keep some secrecy.
I’m tired of being overlooked, used or even worse forgotten. It bothers me a lot (and this may seem inconsequential) when someone who hasn’t thought of me in ages contacts me to get information about someone else. This may just be some animalistic jealousy…thing. Like a puppy starved for attention. But I don’t just want attention. It just wouldn’t hurt to at least say hello and make small talk before pressing on with questions about my friends, even if they didn’t really care what I had to say.
I’m tired of “hello, what’s up?” conversations with no real care behind them.
I’m tired of people who don’t remember that I have feelings, too. And that I may not only be good for rides to concerts, and cleaning up the dishes.
And what I’m most tired of is being forgotten. I tell people I don’t miss her. And that is the truth. But I still care. More than anybody knows. Being abandoned hurts, even if you still have people who love you. Even if your father or whoever can take better care of you. It just is so aggravating to remember that to one person, who is supposed to be the most important person in the world, I come second. I come second to partying, drugs, and some man. Some man who in a way is just like me. Troubled, but still friendly. Friendly enough to talk to me in some of the most awkward situations. Friendly enough to listen. The worst part is that he cares more than her. She never knew I was nominated for a cappie, that I choreographed for a few shows, about my job offers. About graduation. But I let him know, but only to ask if he could pass the information along to her. I received a nice email in reply, congratulating me for everything. I didn’t hear a word from her.
I started writing this as a creative outlet that turned into my first LJ post in quite awhile. And I suppose the only reason I will post this is because I trust everyone who views it. You don’t have to reply. And you may not understand it. But that’s not what I want.
I just want somebody to listen.
Then I remember how agonizingly ordinary I am. Not to say I’m bland or that I wont amount to anything, but I guess it’s selfish to say I want more than what seems to be in store for me. I want to change something, or someone. I want to make a difference, an ability that I do not believe I have. Normalcy is not something that comes to mind when I think about how my life will turn out. But who wants to be normal? Of course everyone, at least at some point, desires to fit in. For some reason, over the past four years, I have realized that I can’t do that. I have been told on multiple occasions that there is something about me that attracts people. And I suppose that I can communicate with people fairly easily. But it upsets me when I think of myself as the listener. Oftentimes I have friends (and even acquaintances) come to me with problems, seeking advice. I don’t mind helping, but I have realized that not many of those people are willing to help me when I need to talk.
Maybe I’m being cryptic. Maybe I don’t realize that when I need someone I wait for somebody who wants to listen, rather than ask a friend to help. It just seems like no matter how close I am with someone, they never “get me” completely. Different people see different sides of me. It’s like a giant puzzle that, if pieced together correctly, will show all of me. My true colors. I doubt that any of my closest friends even realize I think about this.
I wish I could find one person who understands me completely. Someone who I could literally tell anything without them developing a negative opinion of me. But I suppose everyone is like this. Everyone must keep some things from others. I guess it’s in human nature to keep some secrecy.
I’m tired of being overlooked, used or even worse forgotten. It bothers me a lot (and this may seem inconsequential) when someone who hasn’t thought of me in ages contacts me to get information about someone else. This may just be some animalistic jealousy…thing. Like a puppy starved for attention. But I don’t just want attention. It just wouldn’t hurt to at least say hello and make small talk before pressing on with questions about my friends, even if they didn’t really care what I had to say.
I’m tired of “hello, what’s up?” conversations with no real care behind them.
I’m tired of people who don’t remember that I have feelings, too. And that I may not only be good for rides to concerts, and cleaning up the dishes.
And what I’m most tired of is being forgotten. I tell people I don’t miss her. And that is the truth. But I still care. More than anybody knows. Being abandoned hurts, even if you still have people who love you. Even if your father or whoever can take better care of you. It just is so aggravating to remember that to one person, who is supposed to be the most important person in the world, I come second. I come second to partying, drugs, and some man. Some man who in a way is just like me. Troubled, but still friendly. Friendly enough to talk to me in some of the most awkward situations. Friendly enough to listen. The worst part is that he cares more than her. She never knew I was nominated for a cappie, that I choreographed for a few shows, about my job offers. About graduation. But I let him know, but only to ask if he could pass the information along to her. I received a nice email in reply, congratulating me for everything. I didn’t hear a word from her.
I started writing this as a creative outlet that turned into my first LJ post in quite awhile. And I suppose the only reason I will post this is because I trust everyone who views it. You don’t have to reply. And you may not understand it. But that’s not what I want.
I just want somebody to listen.