We’re All Slaves to Society

I really shouldn’t be getting this up-close-and-personal this early in my blogging lifespan but fuck it; I just had an epiphany of sorts and it might be marginally beneficial to share it. And if it’s not? What-fucking-ever. At least I have the words saved somewhere.

I just finished a book called “Sloppy Firsts” by Megan McCafferty. I thought it might echo with my recent, angsty-teen mindset. It did. It went above and beyond the call of duty. And this is what I learned.

a) Making sure things with me and the one guy who’s ever really appreciated me for who I truly am are where they should be is more important than getting a conventionally “cool” boyfriend or hooking up with guys or being wanted by them
b) Getting a first kiss that really means something is worth more than getting it over with just so I don’t have to feel like a loser of a lip-virgin at parties
c) Actually doing my homework, not taking naps in Ms. Reilly’s geometry class, and bringing home the best grades possible to my dad is more important than hanging out and eating frozen yogurt and getting fat no matter how low the calories are [not dissing frozen yogurt btw; red mango = orgasmic.]
d) Making friends that will stay true is more important than making friends that will look good in pictures
e) Hanging out with my “sister” and really listening to her is more important than shopping for overpriced clothes that I don’t really love
f) Practicing my violin and not losing touch with the gift my mother gave me whether or not it takes me really far is more important than refreshing my Facebook to see if I got any more comments on my profile picture

My excuse for all of this was that I already have the friends-for-life; I don’t need any more. I don’t care if people like me for all the wrong reasons as long as I can have a good time. So maybe that makes sense. But maybe it’s not enough. Why not make more lifelong friends? Can you ever have “too many” true friends? Hell no. And in allowing myself to think otherwise, I might lose the true friends that I already have. And then what the fuck would I be waking up for?

I go to high school every day worrying about how I act, how I look, and who I’m with at all times just to come home and wonder why I’m alive. I’ve always known that it’s not worth it but I thought it was worth trying for a while. Well, it’s been a month of proverbial PMS, and I was right. It’s not. And fuck trying.

This is who I am. Either you’re comfortable with it, or you’re not.

Now the only thing that remains is seeing whether I have the strength to follow up.