what's with me lately?
I've made a massive mistake. I think I've always known about it, but I just never allowed myself to dwell on the thought.
I'm the kind of girl who insists on wearing clothes that are too big for her. I've always felt too big for my body. Sometimes I feel as though I could claw my way out of my skin. I don't have a point of reference for this. It's one of those things about yourself that are so deep-rooted you can never quite find where it began and if it would ever end.
I have a short list of possible reasons:
- eating disorder
- the weight of oversized clothing is comforting
- I am severely touch-starved and crave the presence of inanimate objects to mimic physical touch
- I am not allowed to enjoy physical touch because my body is sickening and my mind is even more sick
- to hide from the world
Now that I'm really looking at it, it sort of goes full circle. I think that's my problem. I hide from the world. I remember when I was in high school and this girl told me, her words slicing through the casual, stilted flow of our conversation, that I wasn't like how she thought I would be. She said that I seemed like the sort of person who would push other people away. I just laughed. It was a very rude thing to say.
She was wrong. I am exactly that sort of person. I hold everyone at arms' length, just close enough they'll think I'm letting them in. I have gotten very good at it and again, I don't have a point of reference. It's always been like that. That explains why I am writing this. I'm shouting into a void instead of confiding in my closest friend of six years or my own mother. The truth is, I am a coward. But only in the throes of fear can a person really be courageous. That's what it means to be brave, isn't it? To be terribly afraid, down to your very bones, and do it anyways. Because you're stubborn like that. But it's easier to say than to do. When it mattered the most, I hid. Crawled under the covers until the monster went back into the closet.
Ever since I was a child, I dreamt of attending this university. I dreamt of wearing pajamas to lectures and donning the lanyard around my neck like a medal. I would polish the gold every night until it shone brighter than the sun. When the entrance exam rolled around, I tucked my tail between my legs and tripped over thin air, scrambling as far as I could. People keep asking me why I didn't take the exam. I would always says it's because I was lazy.
The truth is, I was scared.
Of failing. Of letting people down who thought of me so highly. Of having to bear that shame. Of attending a different university with everyone knowing it's because I failed. That I really am good for nothing. But it's funny. Sometimes I entertained the thought of taking the exam and actually passing---but then I got scared that I wouldn't love it like I thought I would. I was scared of disappointment and being the disappointment.
So I didn't try at all. I'm a fucking loser wallowing in self-pity and bad decisions, I know. Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just take me outback and shoot me already.
I didn't have motivation to do anything productive this week. I rewatched the Spider-verse movies. Peter was right. You'll never really know if you're ready. It's just a leap of faith.
I'm leaving this place. I remember stepping afoot in here and thinking, this is just a stepping stone. This is merely part of the process and quite far from the end goal. I'll have to enroll in a completely different undergrad program. I'll be a first year again. I'll have a hard time, I know. I don't know if I'm ready. But that's all it is. Just a leap of faith. I can't be a coward again. It doesn't matter if I fail. I have to try. I want it so badly I think that I could die from its mere absence.
I've always been the type of girl to regret not doing anything, rather than regretting something I did or said. I guess we're going full-circle. Great.