Big Girl Panties

Grandma died five years ago. I saw my kindergarten teachers five years ago, at her funeral. They weren't much younger than her, and I realize that for some people five years is quiet a length of time. But not for me. I don't really feel time.

The thing is, five years could be just three months ago for me, and I wouldn't see the difference. Anything that happened long, long ago could be just yesterday, and it would feel the same. If I was changing--if my life was changing--time would feel more solid, more real. But I still wear my hair long, I still don't live alone, I still feel like a 15 year old sometimes, and I still don't have anyone.

I'm still me five years ago, only older.

It doesn't matter if anybody knows about me or reads what I write. I still have the feelings I had five years ago, and they're still holding me back from doing things I should've done already. When I was twelve, I wanted to wake up fifteen, all grown up and different. Same went for when I was fifteen. I wanted to be eighteen and free. But nothing changes. At least not enough for me to notice.

Maybe cause I'm still me, and I always expected to be someone better than I used to be, at least five years ago.

I'm feeling kinda like an idiot right now.

Remember that song by Jet, "Look what you've done"? I wonder if it was written like a personal soundtrack for me, since it seems to be following my lifeline around a lot. Feels like I'm getting older, but no wiser, and everything always stays the same.

"The trouble with you is that you change and I don't" (my extremely weird thought of the day)

Ahh.... So that's what it meant.

I hate subconscious. It always leaves me feeling like an idiot later.

Home,
sulking

Wallowing in a sea of self pity, I realized that I'm starting to doubt the importance of having this whole "emotional attachment" thing in my life. Feeling confused all the time is bad enough--feeling whiney and girly is plain pathetic.

There's many things I hate in life, and being frequently vulnerable is one of them. Now it seems like I'm at the point where I want to kill all emotions that annoy me the most, considering how unhelpful they are to my moods. I get upset, and instantly feel like sulking and sleeping; I feel happy, and while I'm on the high of my excitement, I don't even realize that it doesn't change anything in my life, so there's actually nothing to be happy about. In the end, I just feel worn out, and that possibly is the only correct response to the emotional rollercoaster people call "attachment".

I don't remember all the details, as it usually is with my dreams, but I remember that something went wrong with my heart. For some reason, it stopped working normally and lost half of its strength. I would stop breathing and it wouldn't beat. I would take a breath, and it would go again, stuttering.

So I was sitting there--hell knows where--holding a heart made of wax in my hands. One half of it was disfigured, and I felt that it was worthless. The other half was whole and rightly shaped, with some elaborate carvings on it. I took a knife and started cutting it in half, leaving the disfigured part to lay uselessly. I looked at the good half and tried to understand what I was supposed to do with it. I wanted to keep it--it seemed vital for me to keep it-- but at the same time it felt like it wasn't completely mine to keep. So I just stared at it, not sure of what to do.

And then I woke up.

In my comfy bed

Ok, lets back up a day and remind ourselves of what happened yesterday...

I went to a Birthday party of a new family friend (let's call her Beauty Salon Girl), but couldn't force myself to sit through more than one hour, since I'm so antisocial and all. Also, we arrived together with my mom and had only one present, which was awkward (for me). When the night ended, I was a little upset with my childish behavior and wanted to do something that would make up for it.

Today...

Since I felt guilty for leaving the birthday party early yesterday, my mom and I ("I" is a relative term here, since I didn't pay for anything) went and bought a perfume for the BS Girl. When we made it to her workplace, gave her the present and all, we sat down together and had a small chat, which uncovered couple of interesting details about how the party actually continued and ended.

In some drunken fit of jealousy, BS Girl's husband--the sweetie sitting on my left at a party, swearing a lot--slapped her a few times across the face, which would obviously put any party to an end. As it turned out, she had the audacity to dance where the Spanish guys could ogle her, hence "deserved" a punishment. You gotta love marriage, really. You only need to make it official for a guy to start treating you like a thing. I hate to generalize, people, but I've seen it one too many times for the idea of "happily ever after" to start losing its appeal.

So, she spent the night at a friends' place instead of coming home--her home--and, of course, was distressed with how things turned out. Well, good news is that she might actually leave the jerk, which is something I would've done. I seriously don't get it when people stay together out of obligation. If it doesn't work, it doesn't. Why violate yourself and be with someone you don't even want, not to mention love?

And they keep saying "life is short" like they mean it...

Home again
On the bed, with the cat crawling all over me.

Ok, well, that didn't work out.

I made it to my mom's friend's birthday. Even made myself stay for a while and chat with a few people "my age". Learned who does and who doesn't speak Spanish, who lives here for long and who doesn't, and, of course, that I don't look my age (omG, what is it with people and telling me how old I don't look?!). Then I spent about an hour sitting in my chair quietly, chewing on my food and attempting to look like I enjoy myself. Apparently that didn't fool anyone, considering how I've been asked repeatedly if I'm ready to go home already. Eventually I had (and wanted) to say "yes".

One awkward ride with my mom's other friend (and realter) later and I was already running to my apartment. I actually crossed the distance between the elevator and my front door in record time.

Don't ask me why, I just couldn't take it in there. I felt lonely, stupid, awkward, bored, etc.--anything but comfortable. When I'm forced to go to social events like that one (and it was the least social of all you can imagine), I feel like a goldfish thrown out of the water. I couldn't breathe in there, I didn't feel like myself.

So now I'm home, again. This feels comfortable, of course, but it's not a puppy dog happiness material either. I can feel content like this... But not happy, no. I think I'm making up my own problems here, but that's just how it is. I'll just go on and be whiney for a while, because I want to and, since nobody else is home, because I can.


Note to self:

Practice if not social, then acting skills at least.

Home
Painting my nails, doing my hair, blah

Tonight I'm going to my mom's friend's Birthday along with a bunch of other people--some I know, some I don't. Okay, I was actually invited too, but I feel a little like I'm being dragged along. Again. Either way, I'm going, so I'll attempt to look good, cheery and chatty. Well, at least good. Probably not cheery. Definitely not chatty.

I'll just go, ok?

Home

I'm a confusing person. I confuse myself all the time, and while I'm at it, I try to confuse others, too. I wonder why it's like that. Sometimes it's really hard for me to sort things out or understand why I am stuck doing that when everyone else has already moved on.

I also think a lot. These days I've been thinking especially hard about things I'm better off not thinking, which sucks, and makes me feel weird. I wonder if it's just bad timing or I have some self-destruct trigger that makes me do something that would make things so much more complicated, for myself and others.

Or maybe I'm just a bitch, and I picked this time to rage only because deep inside I knew it would bring the worst possible outcome. Or maybe I don't want to know.