Life is based around what you perceive to be true. There is a thriving market in mirrors and hair dye for a reason. We feel like we should cover up, hide away, and pretend. For a culture that is so harsh on the dreamers, we sure live in a world of make-believe. So I’m trying honesty. Because if you can’t tell the truth, its too easy to get lost. Maybe its not the important truth. I was not a spy in the Cold War. I made no money off the Enron scandal. Its not so much that I have anything to hide. I just have a whole lot of things to not tell. The silliest, littlest things that I’m afraid of. The dirty laundry I don’t want to air. The cuts and scars and flaws and failings that I judge to make me inadequate. From the nonsensical to the serious, these are things which seem true to me. Even if only momentarily so.
- I’ve spent a year being far too needy and reliant on a boyfriend who is far too good to me. He is patient and kind and loving, but I have too often relied on him to carry me rather than testing my own wings. Love starts with me.
- I am afraid of abandonment. Its my second greatest fear. I’ve lost too many good friends to feel comfortable getting too close. Yet, I have an overwhelming desire to merge my life with that of others.
- I have an undying belief that life is meant to be shared. Whether that is with one person or fifty of your closest soul mates, we’re made to live life together. That is one thing that cheesy Christian community gets right. No one is an island. Stop pretending you don’t need approval, love, or mutual co-existance.
- My greatest fear is inadequacy. I’ve lived my life in the shadows of some of the most beautiful, talented, incredible people. I wouldn’t trade those relationships for anything, but I’ve never really known myself either. I’ve always been the _____ of someone else. Which is wonderful. But also leads me to question, if I were seen for how I truly am, what would I be? Would I be enough?
- I love hats. And I wish people would wear them more often. Big floppy ones for women. Anything but fedoras for men. Please. Not fedoras. You look creepy.
- I used to love trench coats. Now I just think that everyone wearing one is probably a flasher.
- I still hate this program and a lot of things about life in DeKalb. I still wish I wasn’t staying. I can appreciate all that I’m learning and find the many many good aspects of being out here. But it isn’t where I want to be. And I feel devastatingly guilty about that sometimes. I wonder if home is a place you create or if there are genuinely some places where you are meant to be. I always wonder if I should just try harder or if I should just come home.
- I usually know the right thing to do, I just rarely know how to do it.
- Writing is my outlet. Whether or not these silly words mean anything, they bring me peace.
- I have no idea how to make friends. My closest friends have come into my life because we’ve bonded over doing things together. Now that I find myself on my own, I struggle to know how to recreate those experiences. Or if I even should. There are some people I really want to reach out to. But how does friendship, how does love begin?
- My life can be a roller coaster. And I’m learning how much work I have to put in to make myself okay. Its a constant process and I hate that. But I can’t deny it.
- I often think my pain isn’t justified. And some of my greatest moments of strength have come in saying “this was not okay.”
- I find people painfully beautiful. I want to stop people I pass on the street and ask if I can just look at them. I love photographs of people. I love paintings. I wish I was an artist that could capture what I see. I want to hold people close, even for a moment. Because they are just so goddamn lovely.
Kurt Vonnegut tells me that I’ve only got to be kind. He’s right. But I have to be kind to me first. This depression and anxiety is eating away my life. Its ruining what I hold dear. And its slowly sapping my spirit. I’m in a tunnel and I don’t always know the way out. And its frustrating. Maybe honesty is how I keep digging.