They Will Come For Us

The world hurts so bad right now. The screams of the oppressed ring in my ears.

I’ve seen so many cop footage videos that have had me in tears. The words of the miseducated are cruel and unwarranted. The emphasis on being strong in America seems to mean taking shit from everyone.

One thing is for sure in my mind. I am grateful I was born with white skin. I am not grateful to have been born a girl. The racism and sexism is intoxicating. I hate the feeling of judgment coming across my face. I hate the words of hate spewed into my face. I absolutely loathe the feeling of acceptance rippling through my body.

I will not accept this.

The world is in chaos right now. I know it’s been worse, and it could be worse, but I still feel saddened and discouraged. I don’t want to feel so helpless.

But, I am helpless.

I’m just a 17 year old in a small town in the middle of nowhere. I can’t help Syrian refugees. I can’t stop the corrupted agendas. I have no power over anything going on right now.

I might be gay, but I can’t stand up for anyone with my peculiarity. I can’t stand up for those I am not. I can’t pretend to know their pain.

So, I ask you, the vast web of technology, what am I supposed to do?

I block it out, I try to not think about the terrible things going on. I’m like everyone else just trying to get through life. Politics, religion, racism… it’s all not my problem.

Only, it is.

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.”

Martin Niemöller

 

Recap: School and Shit

I’ve been back to school for about two weeks now. Who’s honestly counting? Life has been difficult. I’ve been seeing a therapist all summer, and I still have to see him weekly. I miss school for that. It’s hard to miss school and go straight back to school. Missing the whole day makes more sense.

But I also don’t really want to be at school right now.

I don’t feel “safe” there. I feel like a fragile butterfly..with broken wings.

Against my better judgment I took a college writing course with one of my favorite teachers. Now I can’t bring myself to ask many questions for fear of disappointing him. I don’t want him to see how much of a disorganized freak I really am.

He would hate me.

My hair is shorter than before. It’s a messy pixie cut. I like it, but I also feel like a bit of a minority.

The news is getting more and more depressing, even just talking about it in school. I am sick of hearing about the death penalty, and ISIS. I know it was just 9/11, but I cannot take all this simplification.

I just don’t see how the government should have the right to take lives in response to someone else taking lives.

“Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.”

-Friedrich Nietzsche.

Monsters are human too. That’s why they’re monsters. I can’t bring myself to think that a flower girl is worth more than a mentally ill patient who ended up killing their unit. I can’t see a good person above a supposedly bad one.

The most difficult thing is that good and bad are just words. They have no real meaning to them. People are not good or bad. People are just people. Words are just words. You insisting that they deserve it does not make you correct. What right do we have to judge? Why should we be told what to do by you?

I think sometimes when we read the dystopians and the apocalyptic novels we tend to forget that we are living in one ourselves. The world is not this way naturally, humans have done this.

As Alice Sebold said in The Lovely Bones, “Murderers are not monsters, they’re men. And that’s the most frightening thing about them.”

I’m not the one you should ask, because I’m generally insane if you categorized my ideas. But I do not put one life above another. I am a wholistic person, I believe we all matter. I cannot honestly say a sex offender is less worthy of life than a newborn baby.

I’m not saying that they haven’t done bad things. I’m saying I don’t think people should be judged by the worst things they’ve done, or the best things they’ve done. What people do is not ultimately who they are.

Many disagree with me, but I let you know that these are not my opinions by any means. These are simply tidbits of thoughts in my head. Other thoughts tell me much better or worse things.

We must drink our thoughts like we do coffee,

slowly and gingerly,

tasting all the bitter tastes

separately.

 

Sometimes I Want To Disappear

Lately it’s gotten worse,

I’ve started to shake.

My hands shake now,

like they used to.

I tried to stop it, I sat on them and wrapped them around my body. I was in the middle of class. But I still shake. I don’t understand what’s wrong with me.

My senior year is harder than I thought it would be. I feel so far away from everyone, and

I can’t get closer. It’s like I’m reaching to them, but they aren’t reaching to me. I feel so alone right now. My anger has gotten worse, I have a huge temper. I’m scared I will hurt someone, or say something rude. I have to hold myself back now more than ever.

I feel useless.

Worthless.

I know it’s not true. But the words still pop up in my head where my good qualities should be.

I’m really trying, but I keep falling apart over and over. I’m sick of feeling myself break inside. I just want to disappear, sleep away a week and come back and have everything be better. Maybe it’s the meds, or maybe it’s hormones, but I’m not sure how much longer I can act like everything is okay.

It’s not, and someone outside of my parents should know this.

I am very much not okay. I am trying to not cry in front of anyone. I have failed miserably. I am so fucking anxious, I look like a schizophrenic. I can feel myself looking less and less sane.

When will I be free of this place? I want to move to a town where no one knows my face. I want to meet people I do not know, people I don’t understand. I want to go somewhere that is completely different than this.

When will my chapter of hell end?

 

Things I should’ve said

 

Misfit here. Still trying to decide who that is.

A part of me wants to divulge all of my summer’s mishaps. Of course, there’s not many to divulge. I’ve wasted away this summer, picking up the pieces of a shattered glass mirror that once reflected my image.

I wish I was gone away from this place.I know I will miss it here, but it’s the only thing that will save me from myself. Funny how that works.

I wanted to finish my book this summer. That didn’t happen. I barely even wrote four chapters of that so called novel. Of course, I think even I knew it wasn’t going to happen. I hate when that doubtful part of me wins.
Feels like the whole world is rooted against me.

We all have things pushing and shoving us back. The real strength isn’t hitting them back, it’s pushing through them and not bloodying up your knuckles. The last thing we need is another villain.

I’m moving on. I’m letting go of the past. And I keep writing, keep trying to finish something that hasn’t yet been started.

After all, it’s all I can do.

Tend to my wounds and try not to get them infected.

 

Recap: 2015

I don’t know if you’re there. Or if you care. But I have Aspergers, otherwise known as Autism that is high functioning. Which basically means that no one else can see it or believes that it is there. Because I’ve done so well at hiding it.

A lot has happened since I’ve written on here.

I had a friend who I really liked and then I didn’t. I was doing a bunch of college classes, and then I wasn’t. I had a job for almost a year, and then I quit. I was happy and okay, and then all of a sudden I wasn’t.

I have Aspergers (Jury’s still out)
I’ve never been very good with social communication, and I’ve always felt different from my peers and like I wasn’t getting the jokes. Sometimes my impulse control was nonexistent and I got upset over silly meaningless things. Like, if someone didn’t come home in time or I got a question wrong on a test that I “knew” was right I’d have a meltdown.

My panic or anxiety attacks were always happening Junior year. I was close to dropping out. Closer than I have ever been before.

I dyed my hair blue. That was interesting. I completely changed my wardrobe. I also withdrew from all of my friends and missed about 70 days of school total. Crazy. Oh, and I am seeing a new therapist. I also have a personal trainer.

That’s pretty much a catchup on what happened this last year. Oh, and I got my license.

Stay tuned for more Misunderstood Misfit who happens to be autistic. Maybe Autistic Misfit would fit better.

Our Defining Moments

Dear who ever still reads this.

It’s me.

Life is still difficult, to the say the least. There’s like 10 days left of my sophomore year and then I will officially be a Junior.  How terrifying. Life is so undeniably terrifying.

I tried out for the musical. I got a supporting role. It’s a little higher than ensemble. I was super happy about this, it’s amazing. I mean, I am happy. I guess I’m just confused. About….life.

I still have depression. On different medication. I guess it helps. That’s a good thing, yeah?

I’m clairvoyant, I’ve determined. That’s cool.

I don’t really know what to say. I’m trying to write this short story for my creative writing class but I am drawing a blank. I keep triggering the depression by writing. Of course, not with everything. Boredom seems to contribute to it a lot more than I originally thought. So, keeping my mind busy with other thoughts this summer should help. I’m thinking about getting a job, but I have to get the musical schedule first.

It’s been a while since I’ve written on here. So much for that “once a week” crap. I guess I just assumed that I would have something worthy of saying. Most of the time, that is.

My friend got a supporting role but because it’s her senior year next year and she was against two other people for the lead and almost got it, she’s thinking about rejecting the role. Which, you can do. I guess it just bums me out. I saw my friends talking in a way I hadn’t really seen before. That’s not to say I don’t like them or anything.

I think it just bothers me how different people can act depending on their surroundings or circumstances. I’m afraid I still haven’t found the place where I fit in. I still haven’t found my sanctuary. Unless you count my subconscious. Though, most don’t.

I went to Washington DC several weeks back. It was super fun. I loved being there, in the city and just getting to see all these amazing places and old places on which our country was built. But I didn’t like being around my extended family as much as I did like being out in the city. Though, now I’m not sure what I liked more. I guess I’d have to go back to know for certain. I don’t really like planes. They give me a HUGE migraineish headache. And yes, I know that’s not a word. And if it was a word I would remove the “e” in migraine.

My godfather is still very sick with his Alzheimers disease. Very sad.

My dad is getting better but he’s still irritable to be around, whether he’s happy or mad it seems to all result in us arguing and pushing my brother and my mother farther away. Bro is moving out soon, going to live with his friends doing who knows what.

I still can’t drive much. I’m supposedly turning 16 in less than 3 weeks but I still can’t so much as drive on the highway. I suppose that says a lot about me. Truth is, I probably won’t get my license until winter time. That sucks ass.

I’m taking a college course next year, american lit. I’m supposed to pick a book to read. I don’t know what that will be yet. I’ll probably look them all up from the list my teacher gave me and get started on my summer assignment.

In AP English we’re reading While The Locust Slept. Stopped reading after chapter one yesterday. I’ll try to read up to 5 by tomorrow after I fill out the study guide my teacher gave us. But let’s be honest, I’ll probably end up reading the entire book before the weekend is over and not even do the study guide.

Bad habits die hard.

The writers club I’ve started at my school is really fun. Not too many people there though. But of course, we have to keep the rift raft out…

I’m kidding…obviously we get to know them regardless.

Yet, does anyone really know anyone?

I did a speech yesterday on how sexism is so accepted in our society. But somehow it became about how who we really are is society. How everything we are made up of: our opinions, our judgments, our prejudices, our thoughts, our actions… It’s all really just a reflection of our society and how we were raised. That’s not to say you’ll be like your family. It’s to say, that who you are is impacted by literally everything around you. Even air.

Society doesn’t really exist, we can’t see it or touch it.

It’s like air… So does air really exist?

Some deep questions, guys.

My peers proceeded to ask me, after my amazing speech mind you, what my point was. Well, they said it in a much more appropriate way but basically that is what they wanted to know. Did I think women should cover up more or show off more skin?

What was the point?

What was I saying?

What was the big deal?

Well. I don’t know.

I think my point was to acknowledge that your thoughts just might not be your thoughts.

One of the classmates said, “So you’re saying we should be us, but how can we be us if us isn’t even us?”

I was astonished at this.

I had no idea my peers thought so deeply like this.  They took it even farther, bringing up theories from philosophy class and saying how we would all be different. And how no matter what society will always exist. We’d just be trading one hell for another. They drew such a philosophical argument into a speech about sexism and it made me regain my faith in humanity.

I told her that I didn’t know. That I am witnessing a problem of rape culture, sexism, and I don’t know how to solve it. I just know that it’s a problem. I said that I wished I had the answer. But I’m just a kid from Minnesota. How can I hold the answers to the huge questions of the world?

I told her society reminded me of religion, like in a way it was the new religion. I’m not sure they understood this, I wasn’t very good at trying to explain myself and what I implied is not what I was trying to convey.

At some point the discussion ended after a few more people spoke up in my class.

But it made me wonder,

If I even existed at all, outside of these tall walls full of words that say who I am and who I am expected to be?

What if everything about me, isn’t really me?

 

Dear you-know-who-you-are

My entire life all I’ve ever done is be criticized by you. Everything I do is wrong, those kind of clothes are ugly, my make up is too dark, my butt isn’t covered correctly, those glasses are too big. Somedays it feels as though you’re inspecting me before I go on the runway. Somedays it feels like my opinion has no weight to it, and that’s what you said.

You just said your opinion is greater than mine.

I know what you meant.

You meant right now it has not as much weight, right? Or will it always be this way? Perhaps I will always be a child in your eyes. I’ve heard about things like this before. People like you.

I once thought we would always agree, but now I see how my opinions were once yours too. Now I see how everything I think I have learned -from none other than you. Maybe it’s wrong, but I want to wear those shoes..because I think they are cute. I want to buy that shirt, because I think it expresses my wild side. I want my make up this dark, because I think it reflects who I am on the inside. Because I feel like how will people know all the crazy things I am thinking if I do not look crazy myself?

Every thought I have I have to second guess. I am forced to wonder if it is really my thought to begin with. Or another thing you passed down to me, along with the weight issue and dieting.

I love you so much, but I do not agree with what you have done. I wanted to have sleepovers as a child, I wanted to have friends over, I wanted to go to sleepovers. I wanted to be in multiple sports, I wanted to write about suicide. But of course, even with my philosophical mother I am still not the child you wanted. You shouldn’t have done this. You shouldn’t have made me so dependent.

But, please, I don’t blame you for that. I am angry, but not only with you, with myself. I wish I had enough conviction to ask for what I wanted. Yet, I always seem to find myself wishing for things that will never happen unless I speak to those people that don’t understand me. I blame you, for making me different. I blame you for making me…….[this person]. But,

It was never your decision to begin with.

My Reasons Why

Sorry, this is late. I thought the class started today, not yesterday. But I will do the first assignment now.

I am here because I am a fast typer. As lame as that sounds, its the truth. Handwriting is fun and all, but my hand cannot keep up with my mind. I’m guessing you want more than that. You want something interesting. Being unable to write fast does not make one create a blog, it simply makes them write more often. I’ve kept countless journals, all I have written in.

My thoughts sometimes scare me, I don’t know how else to put that. Surprises me, might be a better way. But I think that makes it sound like a good thing and it’s not.

I guess I’m hoping having people here, knowing that someone is reading my posts, maybe not a million people…but there’s someone out there listening to me….Haven’t you ever just wanted people to listen? Haven’t you ever just needed people to listen? It’s nice knowing there’s someone out there…listening. Just having one person understand..I was hoping that would help me, and maybe help them as well. Maybe it would make us both feel less alone.

Welcome to Land of Misfits/Humiliation Story

 

 

Hi there! Yeah, I’m talking to you, stranger.

I want this place to be free from judgement, a safe place for my followers/visitors/readers. I don’t want you to feel pressured to believe things because I believe them. I acknowledge that everyone has different experiences and those experiences help shape who we are. So, I thought to help get more of you I would share the most humiliating experience in my life. Please, no judgments.

No, it wasn’t me telling my Dad I had depression. But believe me, that is ranked fairly high on the list. Actually, it was a guy. I thought maybe if I told you this it would help get to know me even better then you already have.

His name was..let’s call him “Aden.” It was the last term of 7th grade. Yeah, middle school. Crazy right? It’s been three years, and middle school is all I got.

Aden was this person I’d known since Elementary school. Back then I had a huge crush on him. I think he knew too. I wasn’t that good at hiding it. In Middle school I met him again, in my 7th grade construction class. Oh how I hated that class. It was full of a lot of his friends, one of which I had a crush on in 6th grade. Hmm.

Aden looked at me a lot. I constantly saw him staring at me. Later I found out it was probably him thinking about mindless stuff and just zoning out but I could’ve sworn he was looking at me. He sat down by me, to tease me I think, when I was cozying up by my locker desperately waiting for the bell to ring and for school to start so I could stop sitting there like an idiot while everyone ate breakfast. He tried to talk to me, I’m certain I blushed. His friends were looking at us.

I am not a pretty girl like those popular girls in my school, mind you. I was not the skinniest girl, I had braces and an awkward look to myself. Some people told me I was beautiful back then, but I couldn’t honestly tell you. I’m afraid my views would be too bias.

Anyway, I’ve been crushing on him for weeks, hard. I can’t stop thinking about him. I’m drawing his name, using my name as is first name and testing out what it sounded like mixed with his. Ugh. All those stupid girl stuff. I was head over heels for a guy I barely knew and I couldn’t stop it. I tried. I really tried to stay sane. But he was just adding fuel to the fire with his jokes, and his comments and his laugh and his looks and his smile and how he talked to me and teased me and always seemed to be looking at me. I tried to stay strong, but I was a girl. And he was a guy, a hot guy, who no one had dated at all. He didn’t fall for girls, like other people did in middle school. He didn’t crush, as far as anyone knew. And I was certain he was crushing on me. I mean I constantly caught him looking at me.

I didn’t know what to do.

My friend asked me if I wanted to tell him I liked him. I tried asking him out on social media. Worst mistake of my life. Do not use FB to ask someone out. Just don’t. I don’t think he got it until a long time after this all happened but it was so humiliating. Not as humiliating as the ending of this tale, though.

My friend and I decided to write a note. She wrote it down. “My friend  likes you, do you like her?” she put a  check yes or no thing.

There was probably not a worse way to handle the situation, but we were naive, what did we know about guys and how cruel they could be? I was innocent when it came to all the gossip. Girls, yes, I understood how mean girls could be. But guys had never been mean to me, or if they had I hadn’t known them or cared what they thought about me. Truth was, I think guys did like me but I’ve always been so …I don’t know how to put it. Sheltered? I never really considered the possibility someone liked me. I didn’t like my body, but I felt more confident around Aden every day. He was good for me.

I tried to call it off, but I already knew she had given it to a friend who would get it to him. I had no clue what would happen next. I tried to remain oblivious. I was working on my wood project in class when sure enough his friend set a piece of paper down on the wooden table I was working at.

I knew what it was. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew exactly what it was. And I tried to look like I didn’t, but I did. I knew. I knew it was the note my friend wrote. And I could hear people laughing across the room. I knew it wasn’t a good idea. I should’ve thrown it away. This wouldn’t end well. For either of us. I kept telling myself to calm down, I tried to think.

I turned to look at Aden who was laughing with his friends and they were all looking at me. I think Aden looked away, but I hardly remember.

I opened the note. He had written all over the note, drawing his own check boxes. He said yes, maybe, no, idk, kay, bye, ect. I don’t even remember. I tore the note up years later. But I looked at him and I had no clue what to do with the note. I showed it to my friend, saying he didn’t answer. I said that it wasn’t an answer to him I think even.

But I was ecstatic. He hadn’t said no, technically. He hadn’t been mean. And I was starting to think maybe my friend was right, maybe he really liked me. God, how could I be so ignorant?

Fast forward, most everyone who was anyone was talking about him and I. Asking me if we were dating, I said to ask him. I actually said to ask him. It was so idiotic. I know dating isn’t anything in middle school, now I know that, but it felt like the end of the world. I heard rumors that we were dating, that he was taking advantage of me and that he was going to hurt me. People kept asking me if we were dating.

You know the screwed up part? I liked it. Because people actually thought I could be going out with him. I mean, that’s cool. I always felt beneath those people and here they were coming up to me asking me all this stuff thinking I was good enough for him? Not even batting an eye at him dating me? I felt accepted for one of the first times in my life.

I confronted Aden at lunch and asked him if we were dating, that I wanted to know what to tell people. I wanted to know what I was supposed to say. At first, he made a joke. We were surrounded by his friends. I asked my other friends to come and support me. One did. She came with me. One of his friends, asked if we were dating. I was hanging around him about to ask like the same thing. He turned to me then turned back to her and said, “No.”

All fun and games gone. He might’ve been laughing or something but I started crying. Because it was in front of everyone, I was surrounded by everyone. I’m not kidding. I started crying, I felt humiliated. I felt beyond humiliated. Oh, but it got worse.

I wrote him frickin letters and said I liked him. And I just couldn’t stop. I tried, but it was too late. I was screwed. I really liked him and I had no experience with this and had no clue how to handle any of this. I still am not the best with guys, I still have not had my first kiss may I remind you.

I hardly remember the rest, funny how it was so upsetting before. He was sitting with his friends before school. And I saw them all looking at me and talking and I could practically hear what they were saying. We were sitting far away but I could feel the disdain. I walked up to him and his friends and gave off an entire thing. I was sick of this. I told him to leave me alone, and that I hated him and he was mean and blah blah blah. I nearly tripped walking back but I didn’t care. I made it.

I find out a year later he never actually told many people what happened. I think he might’ve actually liked me, but man did I screw it all up. Someone actually said “That’s that girl that dated Aden.” I said “I am not talking about that with you,” stuff like: “I won’t do it.”

I was acting so damaged and hurt, and he never even told his friends what happened. I see him a lot around school and I avoid him as much as I can. I don’t like being around him, it makes me feel uncomfortable and humiliated. But the truth is, maybe he wasn’t as bad of a guy as I thought he was.

I wish I had spoken to him, actually spoken to him, alone. Because I had no idea back then that being around your friends made you act differently. I was clueless. And I could’ve prevented pretty much everything that happened just by talking to him. Ever since Aden I’ve been so weird around guys. Always keeping my guard up. As odd as it is, he woke me up from this dream I was having that everyone was kind. I wrote in my journal once that he stole my innocence. But it wasn’t my virginity I was referring to.

That’s my most humiliating story. Years later though, I do find out he did tell some people. Because someone asked me, this year actually “Didn’t you date Aden Lancaster?” I look at him and I swear I feel like crap. I say “Where did you hear that?”

I mean, that was in middle school. I wanted to leave behind all of that hurt and foolishness. But, the universe decided to bring it up one last time. In the middle of Biology.

Perfect Fucking Timing.

Turns out people who didn’t even go to my school heard I was rejected by Aden. “That girl who got rejected by Aden Lancaster.”

I’ve heard Aden is a jerk from some people but I’ve never witnessed that firsthand by being alone with him. He doesn’t look at me anymore, and he doesn’t talk to me. Sometimes I see him glance but I keep my head down. I keep my head down a lot now. In a way, he really screwed me up. Because if I hadn’t been rejected by Aden  I might’ve actually liked guys or tried to. I might’ve been able to talk to guys. Now the wall that I had built in 6th grade is at least twice as tall. How will any real guy break it down, or will they have the strength to climb over it?

I don’t like Aden anymore, but he still affects my emotions and I still catch myself trying to pick him out in a crowd. Weird, how that works.

Maybe we’re not all perfect, huh?

I guess we’ll find out.

Recent Rememberances

I, I’m not sure how to put this into words. But I’ll try.

My parents and I don’t agree on a lot, and I find myself not liking them as much as I used to. It’s very difficult because I cannot change these feelings. But that wasn’t what I wanted to talk about today. I wanted to talk about something important but I really don’t know how to say it.

I don’t know how to talk about this.

I don’t know if I want to talk about this.

I have depression, if you’ve read my last posts then you know that. I’m a writer, if you read my previous posts you know this. I’m eh..okay.. I feel like I can get a lot better at writing but I don’t want to learn how to write like others. I want to learn how I like to write. They say if you’re good at something you shouldn’t take a class about it.

I’m taking AP English next term. I’m not all that happy about it because I haven’t read the books or done any of the summer assignments. I have like less than 4 weeks and I have regular homework and test studying and speech on top of that. Not to mention the doctor appointments. I don’t know how I will fit it all in, along with working out and staying in shape, even though I’m not exactly in shape yet (I will be soon.)

I don’t want to read To Kill A Mockingbird! Why? I don’t know. But I don’t. I am kind of less angry about reading Lord of the Flies, it sounds kind of exciting. To Kill a Mockingbird just sounds sad. Which should make me excited to read it but the way it’s written is so old and I have trouble focusing. And I call myself a reader…

It kind of bothers me that I can’t control my future in the way I would like to. I can’t control what people think of me or what I think of them. I can’t control which books appeal to me and which do not. I can’t control or understand why I stop reading a book halfway through and never finish it.

My aunt came over and asked me what I wanted to do. What I wanted to be when I grew up, essentially. I said be a writer. She asked if I had a blog. I told her I had one but it was mainly private and I hadn’t intended on people reading it. Funny, how that works. I told her writing a book is more of my area but it seems writing is getting tougher as I get older. Maybe it’s because what I want to say is changing. What I want to convey is changing.

I’m worried. About everything. About my cat, who keeps pooping blood. About my brother, who supposedly (according to some jerks at school) smokes pot. About my dad, who keeps having mood changes from the medication he is taking. About my mom, because she is frustrated a lot and tired. About me, because it’s as if I need to be entertained now, as if my writing isn’t enough to satisfy the hunger that grows inside of me everyday. The hunger for adventure, the hunger for difference, the hunger for change. But how am I supposed to change when everyone wants me to stay the same?

How can I be me without disappointing my family? How can I be me without disrupting the very balance that our family holds dear? How do I become the woman I yearn to be without destroying the person that I now am?

I worry about becoming my mother. I’ve never told anyone that before. I worry I will become just like her and the truth is I secretly hate her because of that. I love her so much and yet I feel bad for her, I pity her. I hate who she has become in a way I cannot fathom nor state.

I’m sure that’s a common issue. I see the plot in a bunch of tv shows but I never imagined I would ever feel like this. I never thought you could love someone to the point where you hate them. But if you can hate someone to the point where you love them then why not the other way around?

My mother has struggled with her weight a lot. When I was young she talked about how she felt “fat” and too big. She always talked about getting skinny. I think she has damaged me by talking about that sort of stuff around me when I was only 5 or 6.

A lot of people think my parents treat me too much like adults. Like they can talk about anything.

My mom and I have these little talks about…you know sex…but we’ve never had the full on discussion. And I feel uncomfortable about coming to her because her view on sex is strange. She doesn’t believe in lust or love and she says sex isn’t that great.

Well, I know someone (about the same age as my mom, we’ll call her Janie) who told me once that lust does exist and she’s in love. Janie’s in love so deeply it will destroy her when her husband will die of Alzheimer’s. She knows my mom well and she once said that to her. Something along that lines about her husband when my mother had just lost her mother. Janie said something like “I would just be broken if this happened to my husband. I can’t imagine.” This was long before he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. They were talking about how my grandpa must feel about losing his wife.

Do you know how my mother responded? She practically gaped at Janie and said, “You can’t give him that much power over you.” As if love, was giving power to someone! That is not love, I don’t care what she says, I’ll never agree.

So yeah, I feel uncomfortable to talk to my mom about sex, love, religion, politics even sometimes. I feel like I can’t go to her like I used to. And it really sucks. When did this happen? Hell, if I know. But sometime between age 14 and soon to be age 16 this occurred.

I have to get away from my mother when I turn 16, I need to stay away from her and do what I can to get a good diploma. I need to try my best in school and make more friends, hang out and go to sleepovers and do stupid things like kiss people. I need to find my own way. I really need to take that stupid permit test.

It seems everything in life we want we must first go through a test. As if we are not good enough. As if we must prove ourselves to the people who don’t give a damn about us. It’s disgusting really. Should we really be supporting the idea of a test defining our future; a test creating our future? Because I’m fairly certain that’s not the definition of freedom. Determining someone’s worth on a test is like determining someone’s strength by how their body looks. It’s disgusting. Strength cannot be measured by muscles so why should intelligence be measured by how you answer questions?

Screw Society.