Sunday, July 18, 2010
Today I went to a meeting thing at an art school that I attended during the spring. It was all about graduating seniors and the wonderful colleges they got into--Brown, NYU, Cornell, etc. With all the help from [insert art school name], they had gotten into these beautiful places of-their-choice.
I can't help but think in black-and-white. The whole time I was waffling between "I can do this no problem" and "I've done nothing of note all these years, I'm screwed". Either way, I can't sit still. I have to salvage something from my high school career that doesn't involve depression, broken friendships and vices.
I want to join clubs, volunteer, enter science competitions, do internships, enhance my portfolio, start a sport, tutor kids. I want to do all the things I was supposed to be doing since the beginning, I want to catch up and pretend that the antisocial suicidal girl trapped in a toxic friendship had never existed.
I also want to be a framed picture of prosperity. I want to mingle with urbanites in dimly-lit New York clubs, dressed in sophisticated taste. I want to adorn my eyes with shadow, lengthen my legs with heels and be draped in fabric that suggests delicacy. I want to be the intellectual beauty, the girl who is everything.
And then what? Do I put all of the hard work of being the best aside by giving in to love? Love, which does not see looks nor accomplishments, love that is blind to all that you carry, baggage and riches alike. Or do I remain in the only place I've ever called home--hedonism and independence and vagrancy. The place for people like me, people who see the movie of life and shout "That's it? What the fuck this is NOT what I paid for."
It's all fun and games, trying to make it all worth something while insisting that it's worth nothing. Seeking only fun and success, avoiding relationships simply because we are terrified that we won't feel them.
I think that it probably looks sad from the outside. Though we demon angels laugh at the peons who are half-blind, I think they--the normal people--I think we look pitiful to them.