Story of a girl.

Why do we push the people who care most about us to their limits?

I guess this needs context, as everything does. And third person, because that reduces responsibility and accountability.

Once upon a time, there lived a girl. Girl has self-esteem issues. She needs people to tell her what she is. She claims to be an individual, but she is constantly afraid of driving people away. She does not want to be alone and shunned and unwanted.

And then there are diamonds-in-the-rough that walk by, and tell her she’s great. Only, she does not believe them. So she needs to know if it is true. She sees how long they will stick around and maintain the story that she is great. The one with common-sense walks away. The other stays, but she throws pebbles their way creating ripples and ripples until even that…diamond/person gets chaffed. Because now, she needs to know if they think she is great despite her acting out and being unreasonable and annoying and inconsiderate and aloof. She needs to know how much she is worth, despite all of that graininess and flak that surrounds her. Only, that isn’t so great, is it? She is acting out of fear, and that closes and constricts everything she has to offer.

If the girl walks down this path, all of that glitter and promise will remain hidden under layers and layers and layers of guilt and delayed gratification and disintegrity (probably not a word). It is the new year. She needs a new storyboard.

 

failing, falling .

It’s one of those days when everything just kills you. Memories bring pangs, conversations are replayed in your head again and again till everything sounds horrible, words feel like double-edged swords and there’s no hope left as you feel like you’re the unluckiest person in the world and everyone and everything’s against you.

My friends think I tend to go overboard with the… I don’t know what to call it without sounding pretentious. Yes, I do have those dark days, lengthy periods of time when I feel horrible and nothing can soothe me and the hopelessness just takes over. Apparently, I have no reason for it.

I can’t disagree since obviously I’m biased. And A in particular sounded like she really believed it with the whole, ‘You’re smart, you’re pretty-‘ thing… almost like she wasn’t just humouring me. But god, oh god, it’s just so sad how I create my own problems.. thanks to NaNo, I think my Term exams sucked. The two papers I’ve already got are just… horribly marked.

And I’m flunking Bio as always. The thought of getting my results this Monday makes me cringe. And the report. Ack. Teachers hate me. Okay, just one- no, two of them.

I don’t regret choosing NaNoWriMo over my term exams though, though it wasn’t like I was typing away the day before the exams or anything.

Oh, and things are so so awkward with certain people… fuelled by my awkwardness, of course. I hate failing at both my social and academic life. It’s natural when I’m doing great at at least one of them, or average at both, because that makes sense… but this is cruel.

And I lose things. Yes, I can’t keep track of the things I lose. I don’t know where they disappear. But more about that later.