"I don't think that being a strong person is about ignoring your emotions and fighting your feelings. Putting on a brave face doesn't mean you're a brave person. That's why everybody in my life knows everything that I'm going through. I can't hide anything from them. People need to realise that being open isn't the same as being weak."

- Taylor Swift

Wednesday, May 09, 2012


Now Playing: 'Good Intent' by Kimbra

A stupid side effect of being a lit freak is that I read into things far, far too much.

Which makes me borderline neurotic, slightly paranoid and very sensitive. And it's also why I like things that other people aren't generally a fan of - sarcasm, pour exemple, and flirting. I love flirts. They're the best people around.

There are lots of people I just perceive as being surly/pissed/whatever when they're, ya know, probably not. But immediately a swirl of negative thoughts rear up ugly - was it something I did? Something I said? Something I wrote on my blog? What???

It takes me a little while to step back, realize that people are human, that I'm a psycho sensitive person, and move on.

Honesty. Honesty is the best policy. I don't like people who are too hard to read. I am super easy to read. I laugh, cry, scream - everything is big and loud and open. I don't know how to live any other way. The only time when I'm not like this is when I'm subdued, with both earphones in, listening to an endless stream of Coldplay and Paramore.

I hate how my feelings are so heavily controlled by other people. A long time ago in a galaxy far far away I was a gung-ho superchild; a spunky little kid who didn't give a shit about anything but my beloved Harry Potter books. I know that as a writer I'm supposed to be able to translate every word, every nuance, every tic and habit; but I feel like I'm writing it into my psyche, and it's not really healthy.

Part of it is me. I am the epitome of bubbly at school but privately I am a bit too judgemental and cynical. I can tear someone to pieces in a heartbeat, and I'm secretly terrified if other people do that? Do other people whinge about me to their mom from the front seat? Do other people laugh at me over dinner? It torments me, but I suppose it's a taste of my own medicine? Well, not really, because I doubt it ever occurs to anyone else.

It's an insecurity, I know. But my faith has been shaken, and I don't know if I'll ever have a relationship without these kind of insecurities. It's especially challenging because I'm trying so hard to be myself, to be brave and not censor anything. On the plus side, it doesn't take much to make me giggle and be happy; seriously, sometimes I'll babble to my mother about he said this, she did that and she's like 'seriously? You're over the moon because of that?'. A smile, a hello, a hug, a conversation, a hair ruffle...sometimes I feel like these things are underrated.

Which is why I'm never too tired to hug goodbye or wave. Because I know, somewhere, there's someone out there as bonkers as I am that just needs a smile to make everything okay.

No comments: