When I was a child, I was a teacher's pet. I was that girl that always got to take the attendance sheet to the front office, even when I didn't ask to do so. I was also the kid that got to be the "class leader" while the teacher went to pee or smoke cigs in the bathroom. And no one ever said a peep on my watch because they knew I would snitch. Now at the age of 24, I am that girl that, if I hit your car, I would leave a note on the windshield. I don't litter. It's disrespectful to the Earth. I don't even burn CDs or buy bootlegged movies. And I have to tell you, being so good...sucks ass.
I have friends my age who smoke weed, who have threesomes, who go to swinger's clubs, who have relationship problems, who...I don't know...are actually living life and enjoying their twenties. And somehow, being this type of girl has taken a blow to my confidence. I am beginning to lose my desire to do anything because I don't have the guts to do what I want to.
I have a friend named P. One day, when I'm mentally ready, I will share with you our little story. Anywho, when we were freshmen, P was a complete and total sexist nightmare. He and his little crew of sexist nightmares were the life of the campus. When they were not getting high while the rest of us studied our asses off just to barely make Cs, P and company video tapped girl's booties, had serial sex, danced their nights away at shit hole clubs, and made it a habit to rate women as they walked by. They were terrors and went on to sophomore year with 3.0s. Anyway, one day I decided to share my warm memories of P's freshman year with him and he said, "Fuck it. I had fun. You are one of those people who talks about people at the club on the wall while everyone else dances."
That's me in fact, the wallflower shit talker.
I mean, I have done things in my life that I consider worthwhile, but I don't think that it's enough. I want to do more.
I made the mistake of sharing this with Cali, my super blunt newly gay homegirl, and she was disappointed in me. She get's all Maya Angelou on me and goes on and on about how great I am.
"Why do you let other people's perception of you stop you from doing what you want?"
I laughed to myself. I have never cared about other people's perception of me. It is my perception of me that is stopping my progression.
Secret time: I don't really like myself. I never really have, but didn't care because I don't think anyone likes themselves. If we did, we wouldn't die our hair and read self-help books by other losers who don't like themselves. We wouldn't get depressed. We wouldn't sleep around. We wouldn't get addicted to dope. We wouldn't care so fucking much! But now, the only problem is that my little disliking of myself if preventing me from moving forward in my life.
And, on top of that, I feel like a goody-goody. I am at home typing away on my blog while I feel like everyone else doesn't have the time to even read it. They are too busy taking risks and living.
And I would too...if I wasn't so damn clean and scary.
Hmmm, pho-phum, whoa is me.
Well, I would chat longer, but I have to get to isolating myself from excitement.
