wringing my hands

I’m sitting here and I wanted to write about Degrassi, but that kind of made me sick once I started thinking about what I wanted to write about it.  I’ve watched that show when I didn’t even live in Canada, like when I was 6.  I wanted to go to high school so bad for so long.

Then when I was in high school and it was a disappointment, I wanted to go to university so bad.

I feel like I’ve kind of come into my own lately, but I just wish all my stories weren’t sad.  If anyone asks me about my past (which no one really does, because, well, this is the media age – who talks anymore?) it wouldn’t be a nice story despite not having any incredibly traumatic things happen to me.  I’ve never really been that great of a person, I think, and that’s hard to admit to yourself, especially after having heard from your incredibly tight-knit family your entire life that you are the best person on this earth, like a mantra.

I’m self-involved and selfish.  I love to talk about my opinions and rarely change them.  I’ve never forgiven easily, even though I thought I did for a long time.

Maybe people say that everyone was a shit in high school, but I just don’t think that’s true.  I think that’s a way of placating yourself into staying a shitty person.

Or maybe this is just from watching Degrassi that I feel like a shit, because it brought up all of the fights I’ve had, all of the disappointments I’ve had to endure and all of the ones I’ve bestowed (I just don’t know if they balance on a scale).  I think about the people I’ve hurt and the friends that have become estranged year after year, and I wonder about what I’ve done wrong.

My boyfriend is an incredible person, and it’s funny because him and I, we talk about our outlooks an awful lot.  He’s generally quite pessimistic and I’m rather optimistic (unless I’m in moods like this one).  But I tend to lord my optimism over everyone like a king enjoying his jewels.  And he’s been through 3 lifetime’s worth of tough shit and tougher shit and he seems to make things meet and not make any enemies.

So how did my supposed cheery self make so many?

I circle back to this thought every so often.  It’s happening less now, because I think I’m trying to change some things about myself.  But I just wish someone would come and figure out what happened in my past.

Why was it so doom and gloom?  Why was I queen and then exile? Why did I need to be queen in the first place? And what made me an exile over and over again?

I’m trying to be happy with what I have now.  I mean, I am.  I’m happy with my life – it’s about 5,000 cement tonnes better than high school.  I study, I go out, I have a supportive family and an incredible boyfriend.  So very vanilla.

But sometimes I crave a little macabre.

I read an article for a Research class about Neil Gaiman and the dude seems like I should get to know him, and his work. So dark.

So fantastic. I don’t read enough dark literature.  I kind of loved Wuthering Heights last year.  There’s something fascinating about cruelty.  Maybe that’s what’s wrong with me.

Perhaps there’s nothing wrong with me at all, but I’m letting this stupid show get to me, and remembering all the voices I tried to block out before.  Maybe I’m thinking that the haters had a point.

Then again, maybe I’m a dipshit.

But who’s to say?



2 thoughts on “wringing my hands

  1. I think you have to feel the drama of your life to keep yourself alive and feeling through the difficult job of growing up in a complex culture.This is better than going numb and sleepwalking through your days. Life is made up of contrasts. The trick is not to get lost in it. Hang on to the friends who keep you more on the light side, and you will be fine. And, it is OK to be boring sometimes.


Gripe here!

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