People expect me to be something. They expect me to be, well… me. But I’m not so sure what that is anymore. I’m told I’m powerful, and I believe it. Maybe a bit vain. But who cares? No one reads this anyway. Things that can describe me… Quiet, loud, harsh, soft, understanding, unmoving, stubborn, unbiased, biased, two-faced, honest, dishonest, deadly, dangerous, infectious, kind, defensive. I don’t think I can go on there’s so much. People see me as this big thing, this thing that has some sort of effect on their life. I am who I am despite others. But maybe I am who I am because of others. I act strong and outgoing because that’s what people want me to be. It’s not in spite. People want to be challenged, they want a villain. I gladly play the roll. Do I like the roll? Sure I do. I love it. Nothing is more fun then being a bitch and being damn good at it.
But then they expect that. They expect you to be wild and crazy everywhere in your life. What if you’re, just not? What if you don’t go out and do crazy things? Am I pathetic because I write so much… because I don’t go out and live life? I’m fulfilling a desire. I like to write, it makes me happy. So I wonder. Is it more brave to do what I want and not care about being in the world, or to be in the world? We live our life like someone is watching. Like some noble act or stubbornness will win us points somewhere. Maybe it’s true. But that just fucks us up all the more. What was I trying to say again?
I meet new people and I give off the villainess vibe. I’m cocky, I’m strong. But you know, I’m really like a bucket of water that’s filled to the brim. Fine, absolutely fine. But a few drips and, overflow. And no one knows where it comes from. They all think I’m weak for being set off so easily. Most don’t get there’s so much going on. And they say let it go, oh let it go. I can hear them now. Calm down. But I… I like being this way. It makes me… sane. Pain makes me sane. Does that make sense? I’m not weak, I’m hurt. I’m in agony but I guess to a point I like it that way. Brooding… it makes me abnormal, liking the pain. I am so afraid of being normal, so fucking scared of it I even tried to break away from one of the best loves I could ever have just to make sure I would never be happy.
Yes I’m getting sick of it. Sick of myself. Sick of breathing.
I wish someone could just do it for me.
What was I getting at again?
Right, expectations. Now that I’m expected to be fierce I feel guilty for feeling. I feel like, just because I’m crazy and passionate I have to be that way all the time or I’ll disappoint people. Can you really be both? I don’t want people to think I’m not intense, to think I’m not insane. I don’t want people to think I’m not as outspoken and powerful as I am. I can fucking rip your head off without any thought in it. I can win in any fight, I can tear you apart with words like no one else. But does the fact that I like to settle down, that I like to sleep in and just sit around every so often change that? Does it make me any less? Why do I care what they think? Isn’t that the whole point of my personality? What is my personality? If I try not to care what they think, am I giving in to what they think of me? If I give in, isn’t it the same thing?
Can’t win.
I've been around you long enough not to expect you to be only one thing. True, I anticipate certain things to come from you, and granted, I am a sucker for predictability, but I've seen enough of you to know it won't always be as such.
ReplyDeleteSometimes I take for granted that there is so much going on belong the surface, that I may not know about. Should I be less patient with you, and not allow you to hide it from me? Is that what you want?
Sometimes we just need someone to tear us open so we can let lal the bad things out.
ReplyDelete