You know, when I write things down, I do so with little thought of how it affects other people. Or how things can snowball out of portion. But to think that that many people, or rather, to think that my friends read my blog would be ignorant, and self assuming of me. God forbid I should think myself too important. As my friends imply, writing and reading are two very boring ways to lead my life. I can't help it. If given the choice between going to a party and curling up with a good book, I'd pick the book.
Life, secondary school and girls, have moulded me into someone I know I'm not. Sad part is that I've allowed myself to slip so far. I ask myself, is putting myself through the trouble of awkward social situations really worth it? Where do I draw the line between being a social hermit and a social butterfly? Its at two ends of the spectrum. I want to be in the middle, but I know myself.
For all the talking I do, I know that I will not be able to pull off the cold indifference that I preach about. What I would give, to be apathetic. I don't want to react when I find out my "best friend" has left without me. I don't want to feel stupid, insignificant, and angst. I don't want to feel upset when I'm not a priority. I know it sounds selfish and childish. But is it really too much to ask for, for a simple consideration of my feelings? I mean, really, would it be that difficult to stop and think first?
Perhaps it is asking for too much. After all, we are all teenagers. As high and mighty we want to perceive ourselves as, at the end, we still have much to learn.
Time and time again, it is proven to me, that friends cannot be relied upon as much as family can. That being said, I do appreciate my friends now. One of my friends, she's like my mum personified. A cooler, younger, tongue pierced mum. Without her, I would probably end up in a ditch, dead.
However, I must say, I hate the way I am treated like a three year old kid. I do agree that I give reason to be treated as such. But that does not mean my personal belongings, or feelings, can be treated with carelessness. Its a double standard, and I hate it. I'm labeled a cry baby, but I'm not allowed to show anger. If I do, a chorus of "you're over reacting!" "be more open minded" "what's wrong with you" can be heard.
So chew on this; if I cry, I'm a baby. If I'm angry, i'm over reacting. Anyone else see the hypocrisy in that? Bear in mind that they're allowed to have their moments of anger and weakness.
Oh apathy, where are you?
If they're my friends, why is it that sometimes, I feel like I'm being patronized? And if I change, i'm being "emo". Look, its my feelings. Don't try and label them. It doesn't work that way. Incidents have occurred that have hurt my feelings quite a bit. Again, I've been branded as being over sensitive. In retrospect, they're wrong. For example, I was playing in the rain, because thats what I do, and I was made to feel like a fool because of it.
I don't like being told I'm crazy. So what if I like the rain? Sometimes I feel that I maybe a little too unconventional for them. I can't tell them about the stories in my head, the secret worlds I create, the colors I see everyday, and the melodies playing around in my head.
I can't tell them how I feel about the stars, or the moon, or the smell of rain, the feel of the sun on my skin, for fear of being mocked.
I'm not crazy, I'm not stupid, or weird, or psycho. I'm just me. And I feel that they haven't accepted that. Not only that, but they put me down, perhaps this is an error on my part. For allowing them to treat me like a gullible, naive kid.
They don't take interest in my writings, something that is an integral part of my life. They don't read what I have to write, or if they do, its a half hearted attempt at feigning interest. I hate that I'm so easily cut out of conversations. Meaning when i'm talking about drama, or writing, its as if I never spoke. I don't want to hide the part of me thats a dork, who loves reading anywhere, and once had a record of writing for 5 hours straight. Thats who I am.
Not the girl who gets drunk so often, and breaks her parents heart. I know its an overused cliche, but I've lost myself. I got realize that I've changed to fit in. Something i swore I would never do, even if threatened at gunpoint.
I'm hurt. Because I don't report, or gossip about the fivourlous details of my life, my friends don't read my blog, or what I have to write. The three people who read whatever I write faithfully are my parents and sister. They'll make time to read whatever I've written, be it a short poem or a novel in the making. They take an interest. That is something I feel I do too much of when it concerns my friends. I won a writing competition, and not one of them knows, because they didn't ask. I won't tell, because the sting of being brushed aside is far worse than ignorance.
I also don't want to tell my friends, because no matter how much we try to blindly pacify ourselves, we cannot take criticism. There will still be that bitter taste of "so thats how she really feels". Thats why I write everything on my blog. They won't read it, because they're too busy.
And believe what you will, but paper never judges you. You just feel, and let everything out.
