I am honest. Although I have told the occasional white lie to get myself out of a seriously sticky situation, in general I am the person who doesn't hold back. I say what's on my mind. I express my feelings and I never mislead other people about what is going on in my head. I admit, right now might not be the best time to write this with girly weeping clouding my thoughts as well as the ghost of lost friends harsh words haunting me as my fingers tremble over this keyboard. But I cannot wait. I cannot hold back. I need to be completely honest with myself and with my readers before it is too late. Too late for what? I'm not entirely sure, however, I am sure that I feel the pressure of time, and I feel the pressure of fear that if I don't say what I'm thinking or feeling now, it will become just another lost emotion buried deep within me that will one day explode into something far more negative than a distressed blogpost.
I make mistakes. A signature part of my personality is making huge irreparable mistakes that hang over my head and haunt me when I least expect it. Walking to Biology? Remember that one time your best friend said that you were angry all the time and he was afraid you were rubbing off on him and he could no longer be around you? I never forget mistakes. And I think in the end I end up hurting myself more than I've hurt others.
Of course, I like to time my huge social mistakes very close together. So, when I finally feel like I have rebounded from one error and I'm close to figuring my life out, I make another mistake. I add another brick to my castle of self-loathing and I fall deeper into darkness.
Today I didn't make a mistake; I did what was smart and correct. I have moments fraught with foolish bravery and these moments have always left me initially hurt but better off in the long run. Today, I took a risk. I asked a question I was afraid I knew the answer to. (Don't we always know the answers to our big questions?) I pulled it off well. As the response to my question smacked me across my face, I put on my perfect emotion concealing smile and walked away betraying nothing that was going on in my head. I'm good at that too: it is the only consistent brand of dishonesty I allow myself which I use to avoid having my emotions manipulate others to becoming liars. Other people are so easily changed into liars with a few tears or a sweet smile. How many people have you forced to say I love you? How many people have made you say, "I love you too" or "I miss you too" against your will?
As a result of my risk, I realized something important but I also realized that I am trapped, because no person will ever be as upfront as I am about everything. No one is like me in this regard and if I meet someone who is like I am, I will probably cling to them and never let go, which in turn is likely to scare them away. Not like it matters what scares someone off, because I'm likely to think of something eventually.
Imagine me sitting here, feeling what you feel when someone you really like says that they dislike you. I don't mean really like in the romantic sense, because I haven't felt that "romantic sense" in a while anyway. I have learned something about dishonesty that makes me uncomfortable and frightened because I thought I'd left it behind when I left Groton. But here I am, crying tangible tears, feeling things that I try so hard to bury. Why? By now, I should know that the people I like rarely like me back. People get sick of me so easily. They don't understand me and they don't try to. I am used to this, and in a sense, I am okay with it if someone is honest enough to admit what they are thinking. I am uncomfortable with the pretense of friendship. I don't understand the point of letting someone trust you and open up to you if you don't actually like them. I think that is far meaner than any word that has crossed my lips.
The worst part about dishonest people is realizing that they will let you go on believing their lies and they will watch you rip yourself apart just to protect themselves from the mild pain of saying that they dislike you (unprompted). The worst part about dishonesty is the inherent selfishness in it. Every interaction or moment of happiness that I felt in this (apparently) imagined friendship is irrelevant, false, a waste of my precious time on someone unworthy of it. (Note: this is not person-specific; anyone who dislikes you is unworthy of your time by definition). Apparently, late conversations, watching television shows together and having philosophical discussions about the differences between the west and east coast is a not a sign that you are close to someone. For me, this was a particularly unfortunate realization as I feel even more isolated than ever at this school.
Ironically, earlier today this person I considered a friend, asked me, "Why do you try to be something other than human?" This is why. My humanity is a burden to me. Even if the power of great love could outweigh the most powerful depression, this is useless to me if I can never have great love. Optimism is a burden when the people you are optimistic about end up hurting you. Trusting people is a character flaw if this trust puts you on the breaking point right before your midterms. Becoming vulnerable to others is pointless, because every person you show weakness to will take advantage of you, or worse, pretend they understand when in reality they want you to shut up and leave them alone.
But here I am, writing about what I would normally bury within myself. Mostly, it's to prove a point. I can be brave. I can admit to my flaws. I can admit that I have a lot of problems that need fixing but I'm not sure how to go about fixing them.
I feel.
Fine, I said it. Although I appear to be callused and crude, although I appear to be malicious and angry all the time, I feel things too deeply for me to continue to pretend I don't. I am scared, vulnerable, easy to bewitch. I am brought to laughter quickly, but just as quickly thrust into the throes of depression. I fall in love with personalities. And to make it worse, I fall in love easily. I think that most people I know are perfect, no matter how much they hurt my feelings or how angry I ever am with them. I am inclined to blame myself for everything, even things that are out of my control. In a falling out, I never badmouth the opposing party and turn every angry thought that I am feeling against myself as some masochistic motivator to become someone better. I want to deny all these parts of me. I want to have the ability to exist as a sociopath: without connection to society and without the ability to be harmed by the people in it.
Now, I live on a tether. Soon I will be fine, like I always am. I will have my characteristic soulless smile, my eyerolls up to the ceiling, my dramatic groans and sighs and all my behavior will be like nothing is wrong. My strength is in my disguise. My strength lies in my ability to admit that I am hurt by people yet bounce back. So, thank you friend for reminding me of why I don't want to be human. People like you who feel moral superiority over everyone else wouldn't understand me and they are too full of themselves to even try.
I make mistakes. A signature part of my personality is making huge irreparable mistakes that hang over my head and haunt me when I least expect it. Walking to Biology? Remember that one time your best friend said that you were angry all the time and he was afraid you were rubbing off on him and he could no longer be around you? I never forget mistakes. And I think in the end I end up hurting myself more than I've hurt others.
Of course, I like to time my huge social mistakes very close together. So, when I finally feel like I have rebounded from one error and I'm close to figuring my life out, I make another mistake. I add another brick to my castle of self-loathing and I fall deeper into darkness.
Today I didn't make a mistake; I did what was smart and correct. I have moments fraught with foolish bravery and these moments have always left me initially hurt but better off in the long run. Today, I took a risk. I asked a question I was afraid I knew the answer to. (Don't we always know the answers to our big questions?) I pulled it off well. As the response to my question smacked me across my face, I put on my perfect emotion concealing smile and walked away betraying nothing that was going on in my head. I'm good at that too: it is the only consistent brand of dishonesty I allow myself which I use to avoid having my emotions manipulate others to becoming liars. Other people are so easily changed into liars with a few tears or a sweet smile. How many people have you forced to say I love you? How many people have made you say, "I love you too" or "I miss you too" against your will?
As a result of my risk, I realized something important but I also realized that I am trapped, because no person will ever be as upfront as I am about everything. No one is like me in this regard and if I meet someone who is like I am, I will probably cling to them and never let go, which in turn is likely to scare them away. Not like it matters what scares someone off, because I'm likely to think of something eventually.
Imagine me sitting here, feeling what you feel when someone you really like says that they dislike you. I don't mean really like in the romantic sense, because I haven't felt that "romantic sense" in a while anyway. I have learned something about dishonesty that makes me uncomfortable and frightened because I thought I'd left it behind when I left Groton. But here I am, crying tangible tears, feeling things that I try so hard to bury. Why? By now, I should know that the people I like rarely like me back. People get sick of me so easily. They don't understand me and they don't try to. I am used to this, and in a sense, I am okay with it if someone is honest enough to admit what they are thinking. I am uncomfortable with the pretense of friendship. I don't understand the point of letting someone trust you and open up to you if you don't actually like them. I think that is far meaner than any word that has crossed my lips.
The worst part about dishonest people is realizing that they will let you go on believing their lies and they will watch you rip yourself apart just to protect themselves from the mild pain of saying that they dislike you (unprompted). The worst part about dishonesty is the inherent selfishness in it. Every interaction or moment of happiness that I felt in this (apparently) imagined friendship is irrelevant, false, a waste of my precious time on someone unworthy of it. (Note: this is not person-specific; anyone who dislikes you is unworthy of your time by definition). Apparently, late conversations, watching television shows together and having philosophical discussions about the differences between the west and east coast is a not a sign that you are close to someone. For me, this was a particularly unfortunate realization as I feel even more isolated than ever at this school.
Ironically, earlier today this person I considered a friend, asked me, "Why do you try to be something other than human?" This is why. My humanity is a burden to me. Even if the power of great love could outweigh the most powerful depression, this is useless to me if I can never have great love. Optimism is a burden when the people you are optimistic about end up hurting you. Trusting people is a character flaw if this trust puts you on the breaking point right before your midterms. Becoming vulnerable to others is pointless, because every person you show weakness to will take advantage of you, or worse, pretend they understand when in reality they want you to shut up and leave them alone.
But here I am, writing about what I would normally bury within myself. Mostly, it's to prove a point. I can be brave. I can admit to my flaws. I can admit that I have a lot of problems that need fixing but I'm not sure how to go about fixing them.
I feel.
Fine, I said it. Although I appear to be callused and crude, although I appear to be malicious and angry all the time, I feel things too deeply for me to continue to pretend I don't. I am scared, vulnerable, easy to bewitch. I am brought to laughter quickly, but just as quickly thrust into the throes of depression. I fall in love with personalities. And to make it worse, I fall in love easily. I think that most people I know are perfect, no matter how much they hurt my feelings or how angry I ever am with them. I am inclined to blame myself for everything, even things that are out of my control. In a falling out, I never badmouth the opposing party and turn every angry thought that I am feeling against myself as some masochistic motivator to become someone better. I want to deny all these parts of me. I want to have the ability to exist as a sociopath: without connection to society and without the ability to be harmed by the people in it.
Now, I live on a tether. Soon I will be fine, like I always am. I will have my characteristic soulless smile, my eyerolls up to the ceiling, my dramatic groans and sighs and all my behavior will be like nothing is wrong. My strength is in my disguise. My strength lies in my ability to admit that I am hurt by people yet bounce back. So, thank you friend for reminding me of why I don't want to be human. People like you who feel moral superiority over everyone else wouldn't understand me and they are too full of themselves to even try.
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