I'll be the first to admit that I am horrible about creating double standards. It's unintentional, I swear. For some reason or another, I do whatever I tell everyone else not to do. It's not healthy, nor is it something I can change with the push of a button. Too often, I think I'm something I'm not. The image I give off looks great to all of you, but internally I am weakened for it. I've created for you a perception based on misconception. I won't apologize, I won't change; just know that when you interact with me, you'll never know if you're getting the real deal. After all, a good magician never reveals his secrets...
If you haven't heard, I went and had my eyebrow pierced. It didn't hurt too bad when the needle went through me - not too much more than an earring. For the split second that I felt a tingle, I was actually excited. The wound is still pretty tender, but I rejoice in the discomfort it brings. I'm not sure when inflicting pain upon my body and self-mutilation turned me on, but it does now. I want more piercings, and not to freak out my family, but just to feel more pain. I suppose there's a whole creative, artisitc, express-your-individuality side to it, but I'm more in it to find out what kinds of pain I can endure. I figure it's better if I place the pain upon myself rather than letting someone else bestow it upon me in a more discrete, emotional, fuck-with-your-head sense. My heart's been pierced enough, so the problem now is deciding what body part is next in line.
I'm cold and empty. No, seriously, my fingers are freezing and I'm starving. But the parallel is there nonetheless. I am, and always have been, a master of facades. My life is a never-ending roller coaster on the emotional spectrum. I can never stay on-top-of-the-world or downcast for an extended period of time. I have yet to find an escape from this vicious cycle. And at 21, I have yet to find myself, which is as good as it is bad.
I realize I'm not the hottest thing to walk the earth. I realize that when I look in the mirror, my body isn't anywhere near what I conceive it to be. I realize that I'm not what I look like in my dreams. I can't constructively build on any of this. All I can do is tear myself down over it. I often wonder if I will ever be the person that I want everyone else to see. I doubt it's possible, but for some reason I never fully give up hope. Hope - there's a word you will seldom hear me use. I don't know how I got this way, but things in my life can never seem to go the way I planned them to. I don't know, maybe it's for the best, but what is there to look forward to when it seems like your life is in pieces, a bare floor strewn with debris? Many people say they don't care about what people look like, and that all they notice is personality. I think they're overflowing with bullshit. I know I care about character, but physical attractiveness is important, too. You can't tell me you could care less if your boyfriend is Frankenstein when he has a heart of gold and charisma enough to woo anyone over. (Yes, I just said "woo.") I may not be a Frankenstein, but sometimes I feel like that much of an outcast. I am a social person by nature, and I love attention, but so far this summer I can't manage to accomplish much but sitting in my barren room, isolated from this harsh society, and contemplate where it is my life is heading. This isn't the summer I had envisioned for myself. Of course, my mind is strong for it and I feel like I've accomplished something with my writing, but I want to get out more and act like the social being that I know I can be. I want my life to have more meaning than self-reflection. I'm not some monk spending his life in solitude on a mountain peak. I'm here with all of you, and I want to feel like I'm part of the scene. The trouble is, how do I break my filthy habit of ostracization?