The Philadelphia Story
Tracy Lord
At a certain point I don't do well with praise. I am conflicted in accepting it. My quiet corner of the internet is comfortable, and I had never quite counted on the boundaries stretching. I have what I wanted most here: close friends. The fact that those who see me every day would read this with interest is unexpected, and my first instinct is to run.
I don't mean to be ungrateful. It's more that praise does not feel deserved, and I fear my words travelling beyond this place. The glass I put up is apt to distort, and I mean not to misrepresent. I find comfort in retelling and sketching out situations; I am a thief of moments others might discard. My online life holds a sense of full disclosure, while I feel it safest to be tightlipped elsewhere.
I am terrible at trust. There are days I am asked a simple question of those I see day-to-day and the realization comes crashing down that I have left some critical piece of my life out of the picture, and this is one of them.
It has been one of those days where everything goes wrong yet feels too silly to mention, grating but not warranting a panic attack or tears. The cafeteria claims I owe them six dollars when I have not once eaten a meal there. I lead a discussion in Sociology that appears to bore people to tears. I didn't get enough sleep last night. I forget my English notes in my locker in a sort of zombie daze (oh right, I should study those...) I won't shake for several hours. The words don't fit, and I am suddenly distracted by the fact people out in the "real" world might want to be friends with me.
The protective bubble I have worked so hard to maintain threatens to pop, and I don't quite know how I feel about it.
My first excuse, of course, is that I don't like it here, I don't like it here, I don't like it here.
Surely I am not being fair to the benevolent few in the outside world who are willing to look closer and learn I am more than the safety nets I erect to feel safe amidst chaos. Maybe I am scared of setting down roots where I know I will not, do not want, to stay. Maybe I am simply worn out from constant waiting for change.
"I've never seen you with your phone out, Katherine," gasps the overworked, overzealous junior in my otherwise senior government class. Class will commence in a minute; I will put my phone away and pay attention like the inherently good student I am.
"Yeah, well. I'm a delinquent."
I may still dread the day I graduate. The days may spin as I strive to find comfort in balance; wobbling is more natural to me, worrying is more natural to me.
But the moments are beginning to stretch.
(My wife tells me I should stop worrying over this post and go to bed. Clearly knows what's best for me.)
I understand what you mean.
ReplyDeleteIt's way easier to shut people out than risk trusting them. Easier and also much, much harder. It's difficult to shut yourself off. But it seems pointless to open (I'm picturing a flower blooming, here, and it's just making me appreciate how stupid it is to describe ourselves as OPENING and CLOSING.) up to other people when they've already made up their minds about you. You're the perfect one who doesn't struggle with anything and never breaks rules. ...and it's so obvious that nobody gets it, so what's even the point?
ReplyDeleteThere is a point. And people don't always suck. It gets better!! ..yeah.
It took me a long time to feel comfortable with blogging, for fear that irl people may find and read my blog. Because I, too, am not generally as much of an open book as I am online. However, I finally decided that it was silly to be afraid of being who I am, and that if people find my blog, then they will have the opportunity to learn more about me and discover who I really am. And if they care enough to actually read my blog, then they're probably a pretty okay person.
ReplyDeleteAnyway, I love you. And life is spinny, but it's also pretty awesome, and spinning can be sometimes, really. [/rambling]
That should say, "and spinning can be fun sometimes, really."
ReplyDelete