So... I found out today that someone I know personally reads this and gets concerned when I write certain things about my life that seem... well, depressing. It's now making me VERY self-conscious about what I post here. I always thought this was a place I could go to get feelings out quickly. I keep a VERY detailed handwritten account of my life in journals, but sometimes writing is too slow and a stroke of emotion/genius/whatever would pass me by if I tried to write it out by hand. So I type it out here. And I don't usually go back and edit anything or make it sound nice or understandable. I just WRITE. I really haven't expected too many people to actually READ this... or at least take it super seriously.
There's a lot more to me than what you see on this blog. Trust me.
So, just to clear the air. Yes, I was depressed. Yes, people should have been concerned. And they were. My Bishop wondered if I was anorexic. My home teachers wondered if I was suicidal. I wasn't either of those things, but I think part of me wanted people to think I was. But that, in itself, should concern people. It concerns me very much.
It's kind of funny. I'm a complete sucker for attention. It doesn't matter if it's good or not, I just want attention. Sometimes I lie just so I can get people to notice me. Back when I was in Junior High, I would scrape needles along my wrists just enough so that they looked like scars you get from slitting your wrists. I never actually slit my wrists. Never. But I made people think that I did. I'd show my "scars" to everyone at school and eventually some good friends of mine told the school counselor and I was brought in to her office to "talk." She kept telling me that I was loved and there were other ways to release the stresses in your life besides self-mutilation, but that all went in one ear and out the other because I knew that already.
I remember telling my mom that I cut. She read through my lie like a book, so she didn't really care. She just told me not to do it again and that was it. I was so disappointed with her response, I grounded myself for the next three weekends. I'm not joking.
It's sad. I don't think I've changed that much since Junior High. I still identify people as either "the popular kids" or the "unpopular kids" and I base my social interactions on those trite judgments. I wear the same goofy fishnets and bustiers-over-t-shirts that I wore in eighth grade. I still freak out like a twelve-year-old when I don't get my way. And I still lie. All the time. I'm always constantly lying! Trying to look more confident, more intelligent, more hard-core, more deviant, more jaded, more shy, more righteous, more sincere than I actually am. Maybe that's the only reason why I listen to Lady Gaga and wear four-inch heels and write music. I'm trying to portray this image of me as an "artist" when all I am is a fake. Poser. Sell-out. Lie.
But you know what? I think the world is full of lies. People lie all the time. It's why girls wear make-up and shave their legs... Gosh, why do we shave our legs anyway? We all know that hair grows down there! No one is fooling anybody! Why be ashamed of something so natural, so unimportant? Why are we ashamed to admit that we have issues? Why do men insist on acting like "tough guys" when inside they have these things called feelings that are perfectly normal and justified? Once, while I was waiting for a Bishop's interview, I read in a Psychology Journal that men are twice more likely to commit suicide then women, and one of the hypotheses for why that happens is that men refuse to accept help from anyone. They want people to think they're okay, they're in control. They lie!!! Why do they do that? Why do we, as a society, feel like we need to hide who we are all the time?
I feel like a total hypocrite when I say this, but it really bugs me when I see people on the internet complaining about how no one likes them, but they insist on spending every waking minute of their lives doing freaky, anti-social things like obsessing over teenage heartthrobs and writing violent poetry about their ex's girlfriends. Again, I will acknowledge the fact that I am a total hypocrite, but I know I'm not as bad as some of the girls I know online. Tumblr is a fascinating place. These teenage girls publish post after post of these Instagram-created pictures of little slips of paper that they tore out of their Moleskine notebooks with sloppy handwritten song lyrics from some "obscure" band written on them. Every Valentine's Day, they sit on their laptops and share their sob stories about how nobody likes them and how they're forever alone. They post charts, comparing themselves to "other girls" who love makeup and boys and plastic and they claim that they're soooooo different from other people and that's why they can't get the guy or be popular. They collect pictures of pretty Hipster things and fancy toys and expensive fashion that they can't afford. They talk about how no one understands them and they die their hair funny colors and take goofy pouty pictures of themselves because that's the only way they can think of to "express themselves." They follow celebrities as if doing that will connect them somehow. They live -- obsess over -- this LIE. They're NOT different from anyone else. Their story is the same as HUNDREDS OF OTHERS. It's MY story. It's my roommates' story. Believe it or not, you're not the only one who sits by herself in her room on Valentine's day. Just because you post artsy crap on your Tumblr account doesn't mean you're an artist. And instead of griping over how no one likes you, or pretending like you know the Jonas Brothers SO WELL because you've posted every possible picture of them that you can find, why not go out INTO THE REAL WORLD and make friends with REAL people? STOP LIVING YOUR INTERNET LIE! STOP TRYING TO BE SOMETHING YOU'RE NOT! BE A REAL PERSON.
And Taylor Swift? STOP. Just stop! Stop writing about how you can't get the boy. You're the prettiest girl on the planet. Every man wants you. Stop complaining. There are girls out here in the REAL, NON-CELEBRITY world who have never had a date in their lives. Girls who've been abused by their boyfriends. Girls who would give ANYTHING just to hear someone say "I love you" to them. You are spoiled. There's no way you can understand how it feels to be ugly. And now that I think about it, stop writing songs about how guys are calling you telling you "I still love you," and you're all like, "This is SO EXHAUSTING having guys call me and tell me they love me all the time!" LADY... DO YOU HONESTLY EXPECT ME TO FEEL SORRY FOR YOU? You're complaining about how everyone wants you! Stop it!! Just get married already so I don't have to listen to your crap.
Okay, this post has DEFINITELY gone off the track I expected it to go. The point is... We all lie. I lie a lot. I've lied so much, I'm not even sure what the truth is anymore. Lady Gaga says that she lies on purpose, over and over again, because the idea is that you lie until it becomes true. Now, I'm not sure if I agree with that entirely. I believe there are some truths that will never change, no matter how much time you spend in denial. But I do feel like I've created my own reality -- my own identity -- by lying to myself. I don't want to lie anymore. I want to be the REAL me, but I have absolutely no idea what that is!! How do I even start finding it?
Experimentation, I guess, which is why I have been spending the last few weeks being incredibly cold towards humanity in general. I've been taking crap from people for so long, I'd like to see what happens when I stop taking that crap and just throw it right back. I may scare some people away, but maybe I'll feel happier with this more stalwart, tenacious, resilient me. The "I don't care" me. I don't know how long it's gonna last, but I'd like to see if I gain confidence by acting apathetic. It's like Nicki Minaj says, "If you can't handle my worst, you ain't getting my best."
But of course, deep down, I'm sure that's also a lie. I DO care. A lot. But perhaps I just need to dull my senses to that care a little bit so I can find a balance between caring and not caring. I mean, I'm sure I'll survive even if I end up not getting a date for a whole year or never getting to know my roommates. Maybe if I just survive enough, I'll grow more comfortable with it and disappointing people would become more easy to take.
I just need a complete re-do. Extreme Makeover: Soul Addition. Maybe I can have a butterfly room.
This has gone on long enough.
So I have issues. Sue me. And if what I say on this blog depresses you that much, stop reading it. I would almost like it better if no one read it, if that is the case.
Things going on Today: Stake leadership training. I got no homework done this weekend.
Blessings: Friends, of course. But also... enemies.
Listening to: "Marilyn Monroe" by Nicki Minaj -- One of the greatest songs of all time, and one I relate to immensely at the present moment.
Learned: (through experience) It's better to communicate with people than to just bottle up feelings and never let them out.
