In other words, this blog is going to be the lowest form of writing: a complaint. Girls might call it diary entries, and seeing as this is a blog, its about the same thing. I don't know. But seeing as its you, the reader, who has the choice to continue reading, I guess I'll assume in the next few paragraphs that you want to hear me complain.
Really, I don't care whether you want to continue reading or not, because the real reader who I want to acknowledge these words is myself.
Part 1
As a 17 year old, there's all these stereotypes I'm supposed to be: having a blossoming love life, a courageous social life, and an unbearable excitement towards the future. Or if not that, an all-or-nothing attitude towards work, capable of doing absolutely everything simultaneously and caring less about the consequences of eating Ramen everyday. Or, if I'm not even like that, I'm supposed to be a self-sufficient person, whose self-esteem, motivation, and overall personality does not depend on what other people say or do.
As a child, people are expected to wild, shallow, confused, and could careless about what will happen a week from now, much less a month. They are supposed to flash between being depressed and being wild. They are supposed to be children.
And yet, why I do I still fit the definition of a child?
I am wild; I am shallow, confused and have no sense of the "grand picture". I only want a social life, to work hard, to have a love life because others have it, because it looks fun, because I have never understood friendship, discipline or love and am hoping for a new sensation. I only want to be unique because everyone else is unique. I only want to fit in because who else will tell me "that's funny" or laugh at me? I only want to be an adult because no one else wants to be a child.
Why do I get so depressed when someone doesn't greet me? And then why am I surprised when people I hurt hate me in return, when they don't talk to me, or when they don't acknowledge me? Why am I sad when others leave me alone? Isn't "alone" all I wanted? Did I want to be "alone" simply because everyone else wanted to be "alone" from me?
You know you're shallow when you can't even tell a friend why they're your friend. Their personality? Their humor? Their money? Their car? The opportunity to be superior to another person? Are they an ipod, or even a tape recorder? Or are they just a habit; just like flossing before brushing your teeth? Or are they a temporary measure, like a duct-tape patched back-pack?
I have written about other children this entire time, talking about their actions, as if they were below me. It's just to bad I can't do the same to myself, because I am, if not worse, just as immature as the other children.
Part 2
What’s wrong with me? She makes me sigh, and laugh, and sends warm shivers ripple through my head spinning my heart in circles. Cold sweat collects on my neck, and it takes a few blinks to refocus my eyes, wiping that dreamy smile off my face. But she is still sitting beside me, and it’s all I can do to not stare or move any closer to her. The teacher’s saying something, and there’s other noise in the background too. At least I think so; I’m not certain. I’m too busy feeling comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time.
She has no expression, normally. A blank face, looking around, telling nothing of all the effort she puts into studying and working hard, she makes everything seem so easy, not minding the existent boredom throughout the class. But when she smiles or laughs, something in me cracks; I feel like I’ve just molted off an old layer of dirt and dust and disgusting skin, and have emerged, metamorphosed and awakened.
But I know it is all shallow. I’ve talked to her before, and frankly, I’ve gotten bored of talking with her after an hour. It’s not that she’s not interesting; it’s just that I don’t know what to say anymore. The mysteriousness that draws me towards her vanishes when we talk. And all that’s left is just empty lust and social obligation.
It may not all be childish and foolish, but for the main part, it is. And in my case, I am only attracted to her because she’s quiet; she is alone. I only want her as a trophy, not as a friend; someone I can target so that I can be just like everyone else. In the end, I’m just thinking about myself; when I see her, I only think of what she is to me, and thereby react accordingly. I’m just in denial.
So who is she? Is she really the one making me feel the way I do, shudder when I see her face, hear her name? Or is she just a trophy who’ll make me desire her when I’m not talking to her, or not in contact with her?
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