Feels under the cut.
I’m human. I wake up everyday with bags under my eyes, sleep on my breath. Roll out of my bed in a sluggish manner, dragging my feet like the undead. I have that daily routine down to a pat. Get up. Class, study, eyes drooping. 10:00 AM. Run out of class, head back home, the rocky lull if the train whispering me to sleep. 11:30 AM, I’m free to do whatever I want. I’m free to escape through the seams of reality, floating on a sea of words and images, and seep through the cracks of consciousness to transcend into the subconscious. Most of the time, I just nap. 4:00 PM, it’s time for tennis and a release of endorphin. I live a good life, full of friends, laughter, and experiences.
But I’m still human.
Like all humans, I sink low from time to time. Leave that blazing orange high to dwell on the stormy blue lows. And sometimes, I want to feel appreciated.
Not that I’m not. I think. I’m sure my friends do appreciate me.
Sometimes, I need a little reassurance.
Now don’t get me wrong, I love my friends! I really do! And I’m positive they love me too.
Sometimes I feel like I’m the one who loves them more. Does that make sense?
People say I have an ego. I won’t deny that sometimes I can come off as arrogant, but in all honesty I don’t put myself on a pedestal. I’m human, just like the rest of you.
It’s just easier to pretend that nothing can hurt you. After awhile, you stop pretending.
And it amuses people. In an exasperating kind of way. So I keep on doing it, cause I like to see people smile.
As a result though, somehow the dynamics of my friendships have shifted. It became a give and take. I offer a bit of egotism that people take, and then proceed to push down that ego.
I’m sorry. I guess.
Maybe I should just stop. It’s wearing down on me.
Now I can hear you people saying “Man up! It’s just a bit of tough love.”
I can deal with tough love. I dish it out too. But in order to keep that tough love going, you have to remind a person that they are LOVED.
I can take all the words you people fling at me, whether in jest or in complete and utter sincerity. I’m secure enough in my own identity and self-confidence to know that I am more than the words you have chosen to label me with.
But words are like barbs, attaching themselves onto the seams of my skin. And at the end of the night, as I strip myself of the present sorrows to greet tomorrow’s joys, I’m forced to remove those barbs. A careful hand, a critical eye. A finger to the trigger. Analyse, analyse, analyse.
Sometimes I do get sick of the short jokes and the shut downs. Sometimes, I do want to have a pleasant conversation. Sometimes I do want a nice long hug to remind me that I belong SOMEWHERE. Sometimes I do want to be reminded that I’m appreciated. (Really I just want to feel loved.)
But it’s okay if I can’t get any of that. I’ll just continue to pretend that nothing hurts me. I’ll just continue to remind myself that I’m human, that I’m worth it too. I’ll just grit my teeth and ignore those damned barbs.