*****
Rory
This is Me in All My Craziness
Let me
first start out by saying that I never thought my life would turn out like
this. I thought I was put on this Earth
to mean something, to do something special, to be something special. This is simply not the case. This is Me.
I am now a twenty-five year old
girl still searching for the life that I thought would have taken root in my
world by now: a life that should have been filled with love, children, a great
husband, a great job, and a great house.
You, know – The American Dream…
Funny how cliché that sounds but it’s still true. I want it all the same.
Instead, I’m knee deep in student
loans because I have yet to find my niche in life that will present itself as a
suitable job that fits my quirky personality and need for money to pay for my
massive amounts of student loans as well as pay for my shopping addiction. I know.
I know. I’m living in a
fantasyland right now. Sue me. A girl wants what a girl wants and the one
thing I’m not willing to budge on is correctly picking an appropriate job that
doesn’t flaunt my idiosyncrasies around like a yellow flag waving in the wind drawing
more attention to myself. Because that
would not be beneficial to me. I don’t
like attention. It scares me. It freaks me out. It makes me want to hide out under a rock.
I’m single, like always. Well, I guess I shouldn’t say like
always. I’ve dated. I mean seriously. I just said I was
twenty-five. What normal person hasn’t
dated by my age? Well, I take that
back. I’m not normal so I guess it’s all
right that the presumption was made.
I’ll give you that one. Just don’t
get used to it.
It’s just that every time I date, it
never turns up to be something more than me getting my heart broken and
trampled on because I always somehow find a way to see the good in people,
especially people I date, even if they really don’t have anything good about
them to see. I, unfortunately, don’t
learn this lesson until its too late. People
say that love is blind and in my reality that’s definitely true. The only problem is that I blindly follow it
into an abyss of self-annihilation that only ends in heartbreak (mine that is)
and then finally I learn my lesson. You
would think I would learn this little lesson but I guess in the love sense, I’m
not all that smart. In fact, I would
probably get an F in the love and dating arena, which really rubs me the wrong
way because I hate getting bad grades but I’ve got to be real and in reality I
am just dumb in the dating sense because I never learn until its too late…
That is, I learn my lesson as I sit myself on
my couch at my house in my pajamas all alone with a gallon of chocolate chip
cookie dough ice cream and a can of whipped cream crying as I watch reruns of Gilmore Girls for two days
straight. I know it’s not the healthiest
way of getting over an ex-boyfriend but it’s better than the alternative. If you ask me, it’s one hundred percent
better than previous ways of getting over the guys who have done me wrong.
Which,
by the by, is what I’m doing now.
Sad isn’t it? Don’t even get me started on the massive
amounts of calories I’ve piled into my get
over it room for one pity party or else the pity party will only ensue and
the consumption of ice cream and whipped cream will only increase. It’s like a vicious cycle that never
ends. So lets not think about it shall
we? Because if I start to think about it then I’ll start to think about before
and the reason why I changed from doing other things and replacing it with lots
and lots of sugar and an almost guaranteed sugar hangover and that’s never fun
for me. Ever. Believe me on this…
Sure, I have family that would be
there if I called them to help hold me through my times of sadness, but it
seems that I am a very deceptive person.
I do, unfortunately and fortunately depending on the way you look at it,
have the ability to lie very well and can hide the fact that I am sad and
unhappy in the blink of an eye. It’s my ability
in misleading people and hiding my emotions that I’m brilliant at.
Instead of telling anyone that I’m
tired of being alone, that it’s finally become unbearable and that I don’t want
to spend one more night alone with myself, I instead cry myself to sleep and
don’t allow anyone to see the real me. My
sadness is a secret I will take to the grave.
Why bring someone else into my pain to help me deal when they have their
own problems to worry about? That being
said, I find myself helping other people deal with their drama
consistently.
Go
figure, right?
I am able to deal with other
peoples’ problems and clear up their drama but can’t seem to straighten out my
own life enough to not see that the perfectly cute hunk that I was dating for
the last couple of months (seven to be exact in case any of you want to know) was
also dating another person at the same time or the fact that my college major
changes every semester because I can’t seem to find what I want to do in
life. Really. I’m a walking conundrum. I’m a mystery of mysteries that I can’t even
seem to understand and when I try to figure it out I only increase my façade to
where I’m not sure who I really am anymore.
One of these days I’m going to wake up, look at myself in the mirror and
not recognize the person staring back at me.
Talk about me being a walking, talking, leaving, breathing
conundrum. It’s like I’m a puzzle that I
can’t seem to put all of the pieces together and unfortunately I probably won’t
ever be able to put all of the pieces into their proper places because I’m
pretty sure some of the puzzle pieces are missing.
Speaking of my major changes… I’ve
literally dipped my foot into five different majors including biology,
chemistry, psychology, communications, and sociology. Wait, I can’t forget about the semester where
I was literally over-the-top into women’s studies. I thought I would feel liberated taking women’s
studies classes and would finally be able to break through my shell of
depressed-ness but my perspectives did a one-eighty because I found myself dig
my head into the dirt that much more. Women’s
studies and I didn’t get along whatsoever.
Not
such a bright idea after all I suppose.
My head is so far buried that I
could dig for a year and not be able to pull it out to see the light of day in
the reality that is college studies. So
you can say that finding liberation did not work out so well for me. So I guess I’m at a disadvantage in gaining
my prime future job. (Yet another thing
to add to the list of things that have changed from the list of what I thought
my future would include.)
So that’s me in a nutshell… I lack
an interesting bone in my body so I wouldn’t feel bad at all if you decided not
to read any further. Actually, I would
prefer you to not read any further. My
life is personal and is my business and my business only but for some reason I
decided that my story needed to be told.
But now that I think about it, I wouldn’t want any of the darkness that
consumes me and follows me around to rub off on you. And believe me, if you continue to read the
tale about my life that is exactly what will happen. So if you decide to not listen to me and want
to continue, consider this as my official disclaimer. Darkness will follow you like a lightning
cloud has a tendency of following me.
Your sunshine will disappear and you cannot sue me over that. You have been warned. This is a story about how I came to be me:
This Is Me.
