For Those That Wish To Be, To Become Those That AreA Story by walkingdollhouseShort musing (423 words) about fragmented identity and social anxiety. This isnt some clichéd emo stuff (atleast I sincerely hope it doesnt come across like that) Feeback appreciated! EnjoyDo you ever feel like your identity is subject to context? Like your some freakish chameleon with no fixed character, taken away by the day to day environs of your life, and emotions of those around you
Those more shy than you see you as an extroverted footloose character from Sex and the City. Whilst those more confident than you see you as some weirdo introvert, that would be better off as an extra on the Adams Family. Sometimes these thoughts others have of me consume my consciousness. I get so wrapped up in them I can no longer just “be.” At moments it gets so extreme I become their thoughts. I speak and move in the way they see me, or at least how I perceive they see me. Followed by hours of self-loathing, in which I mentally rehearse every moment of the spectre of my fake being. I get momentary bursts of clarity, as if awoken in my own tailor made matrix, constructed by low self-esteem and paranoia. In these moments, I think “this is bullshit, I’m f*****g nuts” “nobody thinks that of me” “or if they do, who gives a s**t about someone who doesn’t even understand irony?!” eg, my mother’s latest boyfriend. The point is I am f*****g stuck. I cannot just simply BE. I am so profoundly aware of everything around me and within me that nothing makes sense anymore. All rational analysis and judgement becomes polluted by my sick inferiority induced perceptions and desire to be liked. Stand-up comedians are known for having this intense desire to be liked and validated. I hear, that after each laugh received from a joke it feels like someone just injected your low self-esteem with heroin, momentarily floating around in happy land, in which you are the master of the universe. They work to be loved in a systemic, and probably deeply destructive way. I don’t have that. Instead, if people don’t like me, I just sit there and let it fester silently, uttering a few alien sentences, feeling as if in the body of some bizarre socially awkward character I feel has been projected on to me. I do not challenge this assumption and work to be loved. I weakly take it and reinforce it through my defeat. And then of course write about to you guys, like a pathetic idiot. I don’t want to be a validating seeking comedian, or a self-loathing weakling. I just want to BE.
© 2015 walkingdollhouseAuthor's Note
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2 Reviews Added on June 8, 2015 Last Updated on June 8, 2015 Tags: memoir, diary, social anxiety, identity, insecurity, coming of age AuthorwalkingdollhouseAmsterdam/LondonAboutCurrent MA student in American Studies. A Londoner residing in Amsterdam. Interested in writing, popular culture, comedy, film and literature. Feedback and criticism appreciated! more..Writing
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