Aaaaaa. I have such anxiiiiiety. (As always.) I was just reading back in my blog, and I was so fresh and witty when I was younger, jeez. Now when I start to write a blog post or even a journal entry in a notebook, I overanalyze everything I'm writing and... I feel like I have no personality anymore. Honestly, I do. When I was at camp, I felt GREAT—I felt like myself. Anyone from camp can understand that completely. And now, it's not to say that I feel like I'm nothing inside, because that's not right. I feel AMAAAAAZING in my heart, because I'm so passionate about so many things now. In my room, at night, in the morning or at any time in between, I'm singing, I'm dancing, I'm speaking to myself in Spanish or in the dopiest Indian accent, I'm researching the shit out of Gaza and Amnesty International and the Hebrew alphabet and cooking recipes and stuff to do if I'm ever in New Mexico (to visit Maika, of course) or Hong Kong or Buenos Aires (MI CIUDAD DE UN OTRO PAIIIIIIIIS). My hair is insane(ly great?), it falls right above my shoulders and it's super curly. And I'm wearing clothes from girls from all over the world, from practically every continent.
But here, on the outside, no one sees it. I don't even see it. When I look at myself from the inside, I see an awesome passionate girl who's loving life. But from the outside, I see me, just me, sad. Trying too hard to be happy when I'm not, comfortable when I'm not, social when I'm not. Faking it till I make it is great if I'm at camp; actually, it's not even great, it's just EASY AS PIE. I want to be confident? I want to be pretty? I want to come across as just a little older than I am? BAM. Done. Because at camp, girls weren't going around waiting for other girls to crack. It wasn't a competition. There was no girl hate, at all. And why should there be? Girls are ALL GIRLS. We all have something in common. Why should we pit ourselves against one another when we're all so fundamentally alike? It makes absolutely no sense.
And it lowers your self-esteem so goddamn badly if this girl-on-girl competition stuff is going on from an internal place. Especially if you only just decided that you're hot stuff less than a month ago because 80 of the most caring people were all telling you so. You come back from camp like, "Hey guys, so I'm not skinny but I have shape, and that's cool, do I have to wear pants or shoes today or can I just wear boxers and bare feet, because that's cool, and does anyone want to know this quality dance that I learned from my friends at camp? It's Portuguese and you'd be so hep if you did it at one of those European teen clubs" and people smile, and laugh, and text you "haha," and those are the nice ones.
Or they'll ask you questions: "Why are you wearing that necklace? Is that even a necklace? It looks possessed, like I'm not even kidding. Taylor, what the f*ck are you wearing now? Taylor, I swear to god, I thought you'd be over India by now, so what are you wearing?" You know what? Get your goddamn country right. That's a Korean necklace, and it's from a girl who became my sister in 7 weeks' time.
I wish more people cared about the stuff that I cared about. Or, you know what, I really just wish that they respected that I care so much about certain things. And didn't call it a goddamn fetish. You know who you are. It really does hurt, actually. It's not like I'm joking. It's not like I just told a corny joke and you told me to get a life, or to leave. You told me to get a life when I was trying (and laughing, because I know I'm probably as graceful as a tank) to do bharatanatyam because it's something I think is fun and beautiful and comes from India, which is a country that I love and respect so much, and you told me, no, you didn't want to see my little f*cking Indian dance.
Which is basically code for "No, I don't want to see your stupid dance, and if that's the kind of thing you like to do, I'll just do you a favor and let you know to your face that I don't even find it amusing that you think you're being cool. I wholeheartedly do not support you in your interests at all. Be normal for a change."
It's not a joke. I'm not the jester of our friend group. I'm not doing it to make you laugh. For gods sake, I'm not even doing it "on purpose." Do you like playing soccer on purpose? Do you like eating pizza on purpose?
It's me. It's just me. You can just consider India and accents and dancing part of my personality. Or just me. If you don't like India, you don't like me. If you don't like me, I guess I understand why you're doing this.
Jeez. All of a sudden everything makes so much sense. In a really sad, terrible way, too.
But here, on the outside, no one sees it. I don't even see it. When I look at myself from the inside, I see an awesome passionate girl who's loving life. But from the outside, I see me, just me, sad. Trying too hard to be happy when I'm not, comfortable when I'm not, social when I'm not. Faking it till I make it is great if I'm at camp; actually, it's not even great, it's just EASY AS PIE. I want to be confident? I want to be pretty? I want to come across as just a little older than I am? BAM. Done. Because at camp, girls weren't going around waiting for other girls to crack. It wasn't a competition. There was no girl hate, at all. And why should there be? Girls are ALL GIRLS. We all have something in common. Why should we pit ourselves against one another when we're all so fundamentally alike? It makes absolutely no sense.
And it lowers your self-esteem so goddamn badly if this girl-on-girl competition stuff is going on from an internal place. Especially if you only just decided that you're hot stuff less than a month ago because 80 of the most caring people were all telling you so. You come back from camp like, "Hey guys, so I'm not skinny but I have shape, and that's cool, do I have to wear pants or shoes today or can I just wear boxers and bare feet, because that's cool, and does anyone want to know this quality dance that I learned from my friends at camp? It's Portuguese and you'd be so hep if you did it at one of those European teen clubs" and people smile, and laugh, and text you "haha," and those are the nice ones.
Or they'll ask you questions: "Why are you wearing that necklace? Is that even a necklace? It looks possessed, like I'm not even kidding. Taylor, what the f*ck are you wearing now? Taylor, I swear to god, I thought you'd be over India by now, so what are you wearing?" You know what? Get your goddamn country right. That's a Korean necklace, and it's from a girl who became my sister in 7 weeks' time.
I wish more people cared about the stuff that I cared about. Or, you know what, I really just wish that they respected that I care so much about certain things. And didn't call it a goddamn fetish. You know who you are. It really does hurt, actually. It's not like I'm joking. It's not like I just told a corny joke and you told me to get a life, or to leave. You told me to get a life when I was trying (and laughing, because I know I'm probably as graceful as a tank) to do bharatanatyam because it's something I think is fun and beautiful and comes from India, which is a country that I love and respect so much, and you told me, no, you didn't want to see my little f*cking Indian dance.
Which is basically code for "No, I don't want to see your stupid dance, and if that's the kind of thing you like to do, I'll just do you a favor and let you know to your face that I don't even find it amusing that you think you're being cool. I wholeheartedly do not support you in your interests at all. Be normal for a change."
It's not a joke. I'm not the jester of our friend group. I'm not doing it to make you laugh. For gods sake, I'm not even doing it "on purpose." Do you like playing soccer on purpose? Do you like eating pizza on purpose?
It's me. It's just me. You can just consider India and accents and dancing part of my personality. Or just me. If you don't like India, you don't like me. If you don't like me, I guess I understand why you're doing this.
Jeez. All of a sudden everything makes so much sense. In a really sad, terrible way, too.
