January 28, 2008

I’m ashamed to admit it but…

Filed under: Family — happychick @ 6.38p01

… I’m only pretty, smart and popular because I want my Mum to love me more than my brother.

He used to be the smart one, the perfect child, a parent’s wet dream. I was consistently grounded, got into trouble at school and hated the fact that I’d never be perfect.

Now he’s on medication to treat depression, a recluse with no social skills, suffering more than I ever thought he could.

I’m scared that I made him that way through my incessant competition, my bullying remarks and unspoken resentment that he was always the one they loved more.

We’re moving in together. Will he ever forgive me? Will I ever forgive myself?


January 14, 2008

The truth about unrequited love.

Filed under: My Life, Self Pity, Work — happychick @ 6.38p01

I met his girlfriend (fiancé?) today. Up until now, it hadn’t seemed real- his being engaged, and all that. It was like a sad rumor no one knew much about and thus made no attempt to quash. But seeing her, there, in person, it was an experience I’ll never forget.

Watching her, talking to her and knowing what she meant to him had me feeling so many different emotions I was afraid I’d explode.

Naturally, I was jealous. I was so jealous I could’ve easily clawed her eyes out. I was jealous that she had him- she had him mentally, she’d had him physically, she was the one who got to feel his powerful hands wrap around her waist instead of me. God how I longed for those powerful hands.

I was angry, and confused. I mean, I’m about a thousand times prettier than her, thinner, with better hair and cooler clothes and a more glowing (albeit oily) complexion. I’m more cheerful and I was angry he couldn’t see that, and confused as to why he chose her.

I felt guilty. Guilty looking into her eyes and realizing that it was her man I’d been attempting to flirt with for all these weeks, her boyfriend, her fiancé.

Even more strangely, I felt more love for him than ever before. It was this girl who he was faithful to. This girl who he thought about during all those quiet hours at work when I sat wondering if he’d ever think of me that way. It was her he loved, and I loved him even more for being able to love someone- even if it wasn’t me- to such an extent.

Of course, I was sad. I was devastated. I could easily have cried. She had a face now. It was all confirmed. They were in love. I was sad that I’d never been so completely in love with someone (even Pete)- so utterly faithful.

She was nice. Not all that to look at (strange hair, but then , looking at him, they probably do each other’s hair), she was a bit chubby and her fashion was a bit boho for my liking (nothing like I thought she’d dress like). She seemed sweet. I avoided seeing them together because I was afraid I’d had a “I love your boyfriend” tag on my forehead- it was awkward enough.

But in the end I figured it out. Kinda. I’m still working out the finer details but I’m hoping this post will help me out. I mean, why did I like him so much in the first place? That’s what J asked me, and honestly, I knew. I fell so in love with him because he’s different. As well as his hair and his taste in music, but different in the way he acts. He doesn’t pay me the attention I’m so used to getting from other boys. In fact, as J put it, he ignores me. Call me a sucker for punishment, but he’s a puzzle, a challenge. I found that so frustrating, but so sexy. Word, huh?

On top of that, and this is the biggy- I have the inexplicable need to be liked, or at least to know where I stand. I mean, if a person hates me, that’s all good and well, I know how to act, how to feel and where I am in relation to that person’s opinion of me (yes, opinions matter. Noone can pretend it’s any different). But, he was indifferent. And that hurt me and intrigued me more than anything in the world. He didn’t care about me. He didn’t want to get to know me, to strike up casual conversation- nothing. He was perfectly happy to go about his own life in his own world with his friends and his fiancé (Jane, I think her name was), regardless of whether I lived or died, went to work of lived in China. He didn’t care. I wanted to make him care.

I guess, while I’m spilling it, I knew it wouldn’t go anywhere. For all those hours I spent staring and daydreaming and wishing, I knew he’d never hit on me, I knew he’d never ask me out or try anything- nor would he hold my hand or hug me, but it was the safest- and most painful- relationship ever. There was no obligations, I’d never have to get my Mum’s approval.

I just can’t handle the thought that I am so preoccupied, so obsessed with how other people view me or react to me that I’m not living my life. My friends, my family, they all think I’m so strong and so confident- I only act that way so they’ll feed me the attention and positive vibes I need to uphold my façade of confidence.

My obsession with him ends today. They say you can’t chose who you fall in love with, but I can chose to fall out-of-love with him. It’s detrimental to my emotional health and I don’t need that.

I want to be free of this nonsense and it wont be easy but it’s got to start somewhere. I want to be as carefree as people think I am. I want to live up to that- to prove to myself that I can.

January 8, 2008

Year 12

Filed under: My Life — happychick @ 6.38p01

… will probably be the most stressful year of my life. I mean, FINAL YEAR OF SCHOOL!! Mum asks me sometimes why I don’t drink or party or stay-up late- he thinks I’m a right grandma, and I think it secretly annoys her to have a daughter so unlike herself. I told her that by introducing alcohol and all that’s associated with it into the equation, I run the risk of bumming-out this year and not achieving my full potential. I could say that a thousand times and the people I know would never understand. It’s a strange choice, I know- but it is a choice. I’ve thought long and hard and it doesn’t bother me on too deep a level that I’ve never been drunk.

But seriously, 2008 is the year. I’ll make sure of it.

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